THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

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THE    WORLD'S    WARRANT 


SHE    STOOD    IN    A    TRANCE    OF    THOUGHT    u»age  187J 


THE 

WORLD'S  WARRANT 

BY 

NORAH  DAVIS 

AUTHOR   OF    "  THE   NORTHERNER  " 

WITH  A  FRONTISPIECE  BY  F.  C.  YOHN 


TOUT!      /BIEN 
OU  \   /RIEN 


BOSTON   AND    NEW    YORK 
HOUGHTON,  MIFFLIN  AND  COMPANY 
(£be  fiifccrjsi&e  press, 
1907 


COPYRIGHT    1907    BY    NORAH    DAVIS 
ALL   RIGHTS    RESERVED 

Published  April  1907 


THIRD    IMPRESSION 


PS 

3  $ 
CONTENTS 


I.  TO    PLAY    WITH    SOULS 1 

II.  THE  NATURAL  WAY  OF  LIVING     ...         22 

III.  THE  ODOR  OF  THE  SKIES 46 

IV.  No  FRIENDLY  STAR 59 

V.  DISCOVER  ALL  HER  SOUL 73 

VI.  LIKE  A  FATE 99 

VII.  HE    KNEW    NOT    WHY,    NOR    WE       .  .  .  .119 

VIII.  LIFE'S  DAILY  THIRST 140 

IX.  AN  IRKSOME  LIE 159 

X.  WHY  BLAME  THE  BRASS  ?  .  .  .  .177 

XI.  LOVE'S  So  DIFFERENT  WITH  MEN  .  .  .  194 

XII.  LOOK  TO  THE  SOUL 216 

XIII.  THE  SECRET  LAY  ON  LIP  ....  228 

XIV.  "FINITE  HEARTS" 245 

XV.  LOVE  IT  OVER  AGAIN  .  .272 


v^ 


THE    WORLD'S    WARRANT 
CHAPTER   I 

"  'T  is  ait  awkward  thing  to  play  with  souls." 

UPON  an  afternoon  late  in  September,  near  the  hour 
which  upon  Morganton's  social  dial  indicates  the 
dinner  hour,  a  gentleman  and  two  ladies  sat  upon 
an  upper  gallery  at  the  Midland  in  earnest,  if  not 
altogether  grave,  conversation. 

The  gallery  was  a  part  of  Carlysle's  apartment, 
and  Carlysle  himself  sat  upon  the  stone  coping  of 
the  balustrade  facing  his  wife  and  their  guest,  Miss 
Caruth,  in  an  arrested  attitude  that  wavered  between 
incredulity  and  amusement  and  was  faintly  tinged 
by  indignation.  The  earnestness  of  a  high  purpose 
—  a  purpose  of  more  than  average  stature,  at  any 
rate  — steadied  his  eye  and  infused  the  tender  mirth- 
fulness  of  the  glance  he  bent  upon  his  two  com 
panions  with  a  trace  of  real  exaltation.  But  Carlysle 
made  these  swift  dashes  into  the  far  ether  heading, 
one  would  dare  swear,  straight  for  the  stars,  only 
to  come  an  airy  cropper  over  some  metaphysical 
hurdle  or  other,  and  flutter  lightly  back  to  earth 
with  a  shrug  and  a  smile  which  deprecated  the  blun 
dering  earnestness  of  gravity  in  having  compelled 
his  descent. 

His  tone  of  incredulous  question  was  explicative 

-+     1     H- 


THE    WORLD'S    WARRANT 

of  his  attitude,  and  his  glance  put  both  his  listeners 
instantly  on  guard,  though  he  addressed  only  his 
wife. 

"  Tell  him  !  "  he  echoed,  in  amazed  interrogation. 
"  Tell  Goodloe  ?  Not  much  ! " 

The  faces  of  the  two  women  continued  to  express 
tense  negation,  though  Miss  Caruth's  glance,  which 
returned  to  the  letter  in  her  hand,  tacitly  relin 
quished  active  opposition.  Neither  spoke,  and  after 
a  moment  Carlysle  went  on  :  — 

"  Men  marry,  Kate,  as  boys  swap  knives,  '  sight 
unseen,'  and  what  law  is  there,  legal  or  divine,  to 
compel  the  woman  to  toe  the  line  that  the  man 
fudges  ?  Will  he  tell  her?  Not  on  your  life  will  he  ! 
Will  Goodloe  give  her  a  single  shred  of  his  past? 
Not  he !  No  more  than  that  blasted  puppy,  the 
father  of  her  child,  will  tell  the  woman  he  will 
one  day  make  his  wife.  Then  why  in  the  name  of 
justice  and  common  sense  should  this  poor  girl 
be  handicapped  when  Goodloe  enters  the  race 
free?" 

"  It  is  always  that  way,"  said  Miss  Caruth  evenly, 
"women  waste  themselves  terribly  in  explaining 
their  lives  ;  men  simply  live  theirs." 

"And,  after  all,"  murmured  Mrs.  Carlysle,  "they 
only  explain  themselves  to  themselves  ;  hardly  any 
body  listens,  and  nobody  believes  their  explana 
tions." 

"But,  Jim,"  —  a  plaintive  note   in  Miss  Caruth's 

-t-    2    4- 


TO    PLAY    WITH    SOULS 

voice  matched  the  furrow  that  appeared  between  her 
level  brows,  —  "  suppose  after  we  have  taken  all  this 
trouble  to  get  this  thing  on,  James  H.  Goodloe," 
—  she  glanced  at  the  letter  in  her  hand  to  be  sure 
she  had  the  name  correctly,  — "  should  find  out 
some  way  " 

"  (  And  leave  her  ! '"  grinned  Carlysle.  "  Women 
always  think  that !  Their  view  of  men  has  abso 
lutely  no  perspective  —  men  take  jolly  good  care  it 
shall  not  have.  But  suppose,  as  you  say,  he  should 
find  out  ?  He  'd  only  be  where  women  are  every 
day." 

Carlysle  stole  a  moment's  musing,  bending  forward 
with  locked  hands  about  his  knees. 

"  The  incredible  inconsistencies  of  this  thing  we 
call  morals  !  Now  here  are  you  two  girls  dragging 
this  poor  child  several  notches  higher  on  the  scale 
than  you  demand  of  Goodloe  and  justifying  him  — 
well,  extenuating  him,  call  it  what  you  like  —  in 
looking  askance  at  her  past  with  never  a  word  as  to 
his  own.  What  right  would  he  have  to  throw  her 
over  on  her  record  unless  he  could  show  a  cleaner 
one?  Not  that  he  would.  If  he  was  some  white- 
livered,  play-acting  cad  in  a  novel  he  might,  but 
no  live  man  with  red  blood  in  his  veins  and  the 
knowledge  of  good  and  evil  in  his  soul  would.  And 
a  decent  chap  as  this  fellow  seems  to  be  would  be 
safe  to  stand  by  her.  Once  he  has  married  her  it 
is  odds  if  he  'd  leave  her  even  if  he  knew  all  that 

-»•  3  -)- 


THE    WORLD'S    WARRANT 

she  will,  undoubtedly,  hide  from  him  like  grim 
death." 

Miss  Caruth  looked  quickly  up  from  the  letter 
she  was  reading1. 

"After  he  has  married  her  !    After,  Jim  ?  " 

"  Gallic  promised  Jane  if  it  were  left  to  her,  en 
tirely  to  her,  you  know,  she  would  tell  him  herself, 
before  she  married  him,"  supplemented  Mrs.  Carlysle 
equably.  Carlysle  erased  a  smile  with  a  meditative 
finger. 

"  Well,  leave  it  to  her,"  he  said  easily  ;  "'the  chil 
dren  of  this  world  are  wiser  in  their  p'eneration  than 

o 

the  children  of  light.'  '  Miss  Caruth  met  his  rally 
ing  eyes  with  a  troubled  perception  of  the  obliterated 
smile. 

"If  you  were  a  woman,  Jim,"  she  interpolated 
wistfully,  "  say  a  girl  like  Callie,  with  her  sort  of 
judgment "  — 

"  Oh  -  judgment  !  "  grimaced  Mrs.  Carlysle, 
"  Callie  and  judgment !  " 

"  If  I  were  this  young  woman,"  said  Carlysle  de 
liberately,  with  a  level  gaze  of  introspection  uncon 
sciously  upon  Jane's  earnest  face ;  "if  I  were  she  I 
would  give  my  child  to  the  Sisters  at  Orrville  and 
let  them  turn  him  into  a  sleek  little  priest  'all  shaven 
and  shorn,'  and  I  'd  marry  James  H.  Goodloe  like 
a  shot  and  live  happily  forever  and  a  day  in  that 
*  comfortable,  two-storied  house '  at  Redfalls,  Nevada, 
that  he  's  so  eloquent  about,  and  let  the  past  go 

— 1-    4     H— 


TO    PLAY    WITH    SOULS 

hang !  What  has  the  past  ever  done  for  her,  I  'd 
like  to  know,  that  she  should  hang  it  like  a  clog 
about  her  neck?" 

The  eyes  of  the  two  women  met  in  silent  protest, 
and  Carlysle,  watching  them  with  smiling  compre 
hension,  accepted  the  challenge  of  their  silence  and 
took  up  his  defense  retrogressively. 

"When  Jane  first  suggested  this  plan,"  he  began 
suavely. 

"Jane  !  "  echoed  his  wife. 

11 1?  I  suggest?"  murmured  Miss  Caruth,  with 
eyes  of  sweet  reproach ;  "  I  hardly  call  that  fair, 
Jim." 

.  "  Can  you  look  me  in  the  eye,  Janet,"  demanded 
he  severely,  "and  deny  that  you  wanted  to  'supple 
ment'  this  young  woman  by  some  honest  fellow 
who  'd  love  and  cherish  her  and  give  her  a  hiding 
when  she  needed  it  ?  " 

"  The  hiding  was  a  little  thing  of  your  own  ; 
but  yes,  I  confess  the  idea  did  cross  my  mind  that 
marriage  was  the  solution  of  poor  Callie's  problem. 
She  is  such  a  rudimentary  creature,  spite  of  her  ex 
ternal  finishing — quite  the  lap-dog  type  of  woman, 
and  failing  the  lap,"  —  with  a  dainty  shrug, — "why, 
as  I  said,  it  did  cross  my  mind  " 

"  And  not  only  crossed  it,  my  lady  fair,  but  skipped 
out  between  those  pretty  lips  of  yours  in  a  good, 
stinging  bit  of  analysis  of  the  gentle  sex,  if  I  remem 
ber  rightly.  And  now,"  -  this  in  a  deeply  injured 


THE    WORLD'S    WARRANT 

tone,  —  "now  when  I, with  my  unfailing  perspicacity, 
perceiving  the  utility  of  your  suggestion,  went  to 
work  to  put  this  rather  mucky  bit  of  *  life '  upon  a 
solid  basis  so  that  you  two  giddy  philanthropists 
could  handle  it,  what  do  I  find,"  -he  paused  in 
dramatic  summary,  — "  but  the  two  of  you  opposing 
me  tooth  and  nail !  Taking  some  high  moral  stand 
or  other  about  this  James  Goodloe,  by  Jove,  who 
may  be  Don  Juan  himself,  for  all  you  know ! " 

"  No,  no,  Jim  dear  !    It  was  only  " 

"  It  was  untenable,  I  tell  you,"  Carlysle  cut  in, 
now  fairly  astride  the  high  horse  of  masculine  logic 
to  override  feminine  arguments ;  "  here  were  you 
and  Jane  supporting  this  young  woman  out  of  your 
purses  ;  something  had  to  be  done  —  her  own  con 
tribution  to  the  situation  being  the  information 
that  i  folkses  had  always  took  ker  er  her,'"  —  he 
paused  to  laugh,  —  "and  it  was  plain  to  my  feeble 
understanding,  at  any  rate,  that  '  folkses  '  must  con 
tinue  to  do  so!  If  not  we,  then"  —he  waved  his 
hand  in  explanation  to  the  letter  in  Jane's  hand  — 
"James  H.  Goodloe.  And  when  I  suggested  that 
instead  of  chasing  around  after  her,  wasting  your 
pocket  money  buying  lace  caps  and  pink  boots  "  — 
he  paused  to  grin  at  his  wife,  who  ignored  him  — 
"  for  her  rashly  importunate  infant,  you  take  up 
some  rational  plan  to  help  the  girl  find  herself  "  — 

"  '  Rational '  ?     Did   you   say   '  rational,'  dear  ?  " 
inquired  Mrs.  Carlysle  suavely. 

-+  6  H- 


TO    PLAY    WITH    SOULS 


.. 


I  really  meant  it,"  concluded  Carlysle,  with  a 
glance  in  his  wife's  direction  that  acknowledged  pay 
ment  on  the  score  of  the  pink  boots  ;  but  a  note  of 
real  human  kindliness,  very  good  to  hear,  had  come 
into  his  rallying  voice,  and  the  faces  of  the  young 
women  turned  upon  him  were  full  of  tender  gravity. 

"  It  may  be  that  Callie  Larkin  has  struggled  out 
of  the  pit  for  a  moment ;  but  it  is  only  for  a  moment. 
She  is  not  the  sort  to  stand  alone,  as  Janet  says. 
But  if  she  does  want  to  be  decent,  why,  in  the  name 
of  common  humanity,  let  us  give  her  a  hand  up  and 
be  sensible  about  it.  The  fundamental  claim  of  good 
blood  is  something,"  he  broke  out  in  a  new  note, 
"and  this  girl  comes  of  gentle  people  somewhere 
away  back.  It  may  be  that  hereditary  instinct  will 
swing  her  into  line  again.  But  of  course  this  is 
bound  to  be  a  rather  mucky  job,  with  plenty  of  plain 
talk  ;  and  if  you  and  Jane  are  going  to  squeal  and 
blush  every  time  I  assume  that  this  poor  girl  is  — 
what  she  is,  we  might  as  well  stop  now.  In  short,  if 
you  are  not  willing  to  face  the  music,  speak  now  or 
forever  after  hold  your  peace." 

"  Mixed  metaphors  make  me  ill,  please,  Jim," 
murmured  his  wife;  "  tell  us  what  you  learned  about 
the  man." 

"  Well,"  Carlysle's  tone  was  distinctly  congratu 
latory,  "I  smoked  Goodloe  out  pretty  thoroughly. 
He's  a  clerk  or  foreman  —  foreman  most  likely — 
with  the  Redfalls  Rolling  Stock  people,  and  his  bank 

-+  7  +- 


THE    WORLD'S    WARRANT 

spoke  well  of  him.  I'll  tell  you  what  it  is,  girls,  if 
this  deal  goes  through,  Callie  may  thank  her  stars, 
and  we  shall  have  something  very  well  worth  while 
coming  to  us  in  the  way  of  golden  harps  and  crowns 
—  later." 

"I  wish  her  name  were  not  'Callie,'"  moaned 
Jane  ;  "it  is  so  impossible  to  adjust  it  to  any  sort  of 
tragic  expression." 

"'Hester  Prynne '  would  be  more  in  character," 
smiled  Carlysle.  "  But  tragic  ?  This  is  plain,  hum 
drum  business,  my  dear  Jane,  not  tragedy  at  all." 

"  Why  on  earth  do  you  suppose  he  ever  did  such 
an  absurd  thing  as  to  advertise  for  a  wife  ?  "  inquired 
Mrs.  Carlysle,  with  exasperated  patience.  "  And  why 
not  advertise  for  blackberries  or  mullein  leaves  at 
once?" 

"  Some  woman  turned  him  down  as  like  as  not, 
and  he  had  n't  the  stamina  to  react,"  Carlvsle 
elucidated.  "There  are  fellows  like  that.  But  this 
sort  of  thing  is  not  so  utterly  unheard  of  among 
a  certain  class  of  men,  dear.  Lots  of  men  —  this 
fellow's  sort  —  regard  marriage  as  a  by-product  of 
the  real  business  of  life.  If  there  's  anything  in  it 
for  them,  well  and  good,  but  they  're  not  going  to 
let  it  interfere  with  the  regular  output.  i  Brutes '  ? 
Not  at  all,  I  assure  you.  Very  good  fellows  ;  self- 
made  men,  you  know  ;  been  too  busy  all  their  lives 
to  bother  with  women  —  never  heard  of  the  leading- 
up  process,  I  dare  say,  and  when  they  do  want  to 


TO    PLAY    WITH    SOULS 

marry  they  go  about  it  the  only  way  they  know. 
Goodloe  knows  he  is  taking  a  risk  ;  he  takes  it  as 
he  would  any  other  sort  of  business  risk ;  she  's 
taking  a  bigger  one,  and  she  takes  it  as  all  wromen 
do  —  because  she  has  to.  Read  us  the  letter,  Jane. 
I  like  his  grit,  tackling  a  love  letter  of  that  sort ! " 

REDFALLS,  NEVADA,  Sept.  17,  18 — . 

"  '  MY  DEAR  Miss  MEADOWS  : '  '  read  Jane  — 

"  '  Meadows  ?  '  '  queried  Carlysle,  with  an  irre 
pressible  smile  —  the  thing  was  beginning  to  take  a 
piquant  hold  upon  his  fancy;  the  psychological  pos 
sibilities  in  the  play  of  character  between  the  three 
women  in  their  deal  with  destiny  appealed  irresistibly 
to  a  certain  metaphysical  twist  in  Carlysle's  otherwise 
straight-grained  mental  timber.  "  Why  these  Mach 
iavellian  tactics,  my  honored  confreres,  in  a  straight 
business  deal  ?  A  three-ply  alias  !  Ye  gods  !  " 

"  On  Jane's  account,  naturally,"  Mrs.  Carlysle 
hastened  to  explain.  "  Do  you  suppose,  either  of 
you,"  with  pathetic  lucidity,  "  that  James  Goodloe 
is  going  to  sit  quietly  by  and  let  you  and  Jane  marry 
him  off  to  all  sorts  of  people  without  looking  into  it 
himself?  Jane  had  to  write  the  letters,  you  know, 
as  Callie  cannot  write." 

"  Machiavelli,  did  I  say  ?  This  lays  away  over 
Machiavelli!  It's  foxy  as  Lucifer,"  laughed  Carlysle; 
and,  with  a  sudden  collapse  into  new  mirth  as  a  fresh 
aspect  of  the  thing  shook  upward  in  the  kaleidoscope 

-+  9  -»- 


THE    WORLD'S    WARRANT 

of  his  laughter-loving  mind,  "  would  n't  it  be  a  de 
licious  combination?  —  Jane  to  bag  the  game,  I 
mean,  after  courting  him  for  Gallic.  I  think,"  he 
mused  delightedly  —  "I  think  it  will  be  best  to  put 
Jane  under  bond.  Thomas  Aquinas  himself  couldn't 
stand  out  against  a  love  letter  from  Jane,  and  unless 
Goodloe  is  immune  "  — 

"  Please  go  on,  Jane,"  sighed  Mrs.  Cariysle. 
"  When  Jim  begins  to  play  mental  checkers  !  " 

But  Jane  was  ready  with  an  explanation  of  her 
own. 

"Kate  always  snubs  the  artistic  element,  you  know, 
Jim.  That  name  was  a  ray  of  genius  ;  a  scintillation 
from  my  sense  of  the  eternal  fitness,  in  fact.  James 
Goodloe  wanted  a  country  girl,  you  remember?  So 
I  got  Callie  up  in  character.  l  Mary  Meadows  '  smells 
of  clover  and  the  —  er,  the  green  fields  and  that. 
Fancy  Callie  in  a  white,  ruffled  sunbonnet  and  a  blue- 
sprigged  lawn  —  the  sort  they  sell  in  country  stores, 
you  know,  Kate? — leaning  on  James  Goodloe's 
manly  arm  "  — 

"I  do  not  deny  that  Callie  looks  the  part,"  put  in 
Mrs.  Cariysle,  with  distinctly  disparaging  emphasis, 

"  Don't  be  insidious,  Kate,"  smiled  Jane.  "  It 's 
unchristian." 

"  And  to  look  the  part  you  're  cast  for  in  this 
world  is  nine  points  in  the  game,  my  dear,"  added 
Cariysle,  with  marital  repressiveness.  "Go  on, 
Jane."  ' 

-H-     10     -K- 


TO    PLAY    WITH    SOULS 

MY  DEAR  Miss  MEADOWS  [obediently  read  Jane 
for  the  second  time],  —  I  am  just  in  receipt  of  your 
letter  in  reply  to  my  own  of  June  28. 

How  good  of  you  to  take  me  up,  and  so  frankly 
and  kindly  as  you  have  done !  I  assure  you  I  was 
beginning  to  feel  quite  cut  up. 

In  view  of  the  contents  of  my  letter,  to  which  you 
have  replied,  I  shall  assume  without  further  explana 
tion  that  we  understand  each  other  as  to  the  object 
of  this  correspondence;  and  further,  that  you  were 
sensible  enough  to  accept  my  motives  for  conducting 
my  courtship  in  this  unusual  way,  on  trust.  I  appre 
ciate  your  confidence,  and  I  hope  you  feel  that  it 
is  justified  by  my  faith  in  the  purity  of  your  own 
motives  in  having  accepted  my  offer. 

This  position  upon  both  our  parts  is  based  upon 
good  sense  and  good  business  principles,  and,  more 
over,  puts  us  in  line  at  once  with  the  mutual  trust 
that  is  at  the  root  of  all  that  is  strong  and  tender 
between  men  and  women,  and  is  peculiarly  essential 
to  the  relationship  which  we  propose  to  establish  — 
I  mean  a  clean,  honest  partnership. 

I  am  a  clumsy  chap  with  women,  as  of  course 
you  '11  soon  find  out,  and  an  incredible  dolt  in  my 
lack  of  experience.  Shall  you  mind  that  very  much  ? 

Write  to  me  quite  frankly,  will  you  not  ?  Ask  me 
anything  you  care  to  know,  with  perfect  assurance 
that  I  recognize  your  right  to  do  so. 

One  thing  I  wish  to  say  as  to  your  part  in  this. 
-.-  11  H- 


THE    WORLD'S    WARRANT 

I  realize  that  in  taking  up  an  affair  of  this  kind 
you,  as  a  woman,  are  liable  to  misconception  from  a 
conventional  standpoint,  that  I  do  not  share.  I  wish 
you  to  feel  from  the  very  beginning  that  I  stand 
between  you  and  any  form  of  misconception,  just  as 
though  you  were  already  my  wife.  I  assume  here  and 
now  all  responsibility  for  any  consequences  arising 
from  this. 

Of  course,  everything  is  in  your  hands  to  ar 
range  ;  your  wishes  are  my  law  in  this  affair. 

Be  fair  to  me  and  true  to  yourself,  my  dear,  and 
trust  me  for  the  rest.  Faithfully, 

JAMES  H.  GOODLOE. 

Jane  met  Carlysle's  interested  eyes  with  a  waiting 
smile  in  her  own. 

"  Top  notch,"  he  replied  briefly  to  the  smile.  "So 
far  as  a  bungling  letter  can  show  a  man  up,  you 
have  put  in  your  little  thumb,  Jane,  and  pulled 
outa"  — 

"  Chump,"  supplied  Mrs.  Carlysle  calmly.  "  He 
talked  all  over  the  place  and  ended  by  saying 
nothing." 

" —  plum,"  finished  Carlysle  firmly.  He  was 
reading  the  letter  with  frowning  approbation,  and 
now  raised  his  eyes,  striking  the  letter  angrily  with 
his  finger  as  he  met  Jane's  eyes. 

"  What  in  thunder,"  he  demanded,  "  made  a  fel 
low  like  this  do  a  thing  like  that  ?  " 

-h    12    4- 


TO    PLAY    WITH    SOULS 

Jane  shook  her  charming  head  in  denial  of  re 
sponsibility  for  the  inscrutability  of  Goodloe's  mo 
tives.  But  Carlysle  was  not  heeding  her  ;  his  mind 
was  far  afield  along  the  path  he  had  marked  out  for 
the  two  whose  destinies  he  had  elected  to  assist. 

"  This  girl,  Callie,"  he  began  abruptly,  presenting 
another  phase  of  the  subject,  —  "this  girl  is  rather 
pretty,  is  she  not?  I  mean  if  she  were  decently 
dressed  and  knew  a  few  things." 

"  Pretty  !  Why,"  Mrs.  Carlysle  sought  distract 
edly  for  an  adjective  at  once  descriptive  and  suffi 
ciently  disapproving  to  express  Callie.  "  Pretty  ? 
She  's — she's  outrageously  pretty!  A  regular  man's 
beauty,  if  ever  there  was  one.  The  sort  of  woman 
that  carries  a  perpetual  danger  signal  to  other  wo 
men.  You  know  her  sort,  Jane?" 

Miss  Caruth  nodded. 

"  But  she  's  not  in  the  least  vulgar,  Kate.  I  do 
not  know  why  she  is  not,  but  she  is  not.  She 's  triv 
ial,  inconsequent — which  is  the  word?" — she  turned 
puzzled  brows  of  inquiry  upon  her  friends,  —  "and 
of  course  unthinkable  in  a  social  sense,  but  not"  — 
judicially  —  "  not  impossible,  you  know." 

"They  both  express  her  at  times,"  mused  Carlysle. 
"  But  do  you  know  it  is  the  very  thing  that  you 
have  remarked  in  her  —  the  absence  of  vulgarity  — 
upon  which  I  am  founding  my  faith  in  her  reincar 
nation  ?  The  only  prophecy  that  fulfills  itself  is 
heredity.  Now  little  Callie  is  the  daughter  of  a 
-*•  13  H- 


hundred  earls ;  the  hieroglyphics  of  race  are  written 
all  over  her." 

"I'd  like  to  know  where?"  demanded  Mrs. 
Carlysle ;  "  her  grammar  is  something  perfectly  "  — 

"  In  more  immutable  things  than  grammar,  my 
Kate !  The  language  of  the  blood  concerns  not  it 
self  with  syntax.  The  poise  of  this  girl's  head,  the 
turn  of  her  brow,  the  arch  of  her  instep  in  her  little 
brogans,  the  shape  of  her  finger-nails,  are  Nature's 
stamp  and  superscription,  and  the  instincts  to  match 
are  there.  We  have  but  to  waken  them." 

"  Wise  men  let  sleeping  dogs  lie,  Jim ! "  ad 
monished  his  wife ;  "  and  I  must  say  I  do  pity  this 
wretched  man ! " 

"  You  need  not ;  blue  blood  may  run  to  seed,  but 
it  does  n't  altogether  fizzle  out  in  a  few  generations. 
She  has  made  an  awful  mess  of  her  life,  poor  girl, 
and  I  dare  say  she  '11  lead  Goodloe  an  awful  life." 
He  paused  to  smile  with  cheerful  brutality  over  the 
prospect :  "  But  she  '11  never  make  a  social  blunder, 
and  a  man  can  stand  a  good  bit  of  bull-ragging  in 
private  "  —  he  left  a  kiss  of  teasing  identification 
upon  his  wife's  cheek  —  "  if  he  can  take  his  walks 
abroad  with  a  woman  by  his  side  with  a  throat  like 
a  swan  and  eyes  like  purple  corn-flowers." 

"  Well,  upon  my  word,  Jim  !  " 

"  Callie's  eyes  are  blue,  my  dear !  and  why  am  I 
to  be  debarred  the  use  of  hyperbole  when  it  is  my 
wife's  favorite  figure  of  speech?  But  to  narrow  this 

-+     14    H- 


thing  down  to  common  sense  and  exclude  poetic 
license  if  you  say  so,  it  means  the  salvation  of  this 
girl  or  her — damnation.  She  '11  follow  at  this  man's 
heel  in  a  matrimonial  chain  and  collar  and  get 
through  life  decently  enough,  no  doubt ;  but  put 
her  life  in  her  own  hands!  "  He  annotated  his  sug 
gestion  with  a  shrug  that  combined  sadness  and 
cynicism  in  about  equal  parts.  "And  here,  of  all 
places !  You  '11  do  me  the  credit  I  hope,  girls,  to 
remember  that  I  have  opposed  this  plan  from  the 
first." 

"  It  is  only  for  a  couple  of  months,"  put  in  Mrs. 
Carlysle  soothingly ;  "  the  linen  woman's  place  is 
vacant  only  while  she  is  at  home.  And  apart  from 
Jane's  influence — and  we  hope  a  good  deal  from 
that  —  it  will  be  more  convenient  to  have  her  here 
this  winter,  if  you  and  Jane  really  mean  to  carry 
through  this  preposterous  plan." 

"  Consider  that  settled,  dear.  It 's  going  to  be 
no  end  of  fun,  a  regular  mental  theatre  for  us  all 
winter." 

"  But  I  never  dr-e-a-med  that  it  would  be  a  man 
like  this ! "  murmured  Miss  Caruth  distressfully. 

"  Oh,  brace  up,"  Carlysle  admonished  her  cheer 
fully  ;  "  I  dare  say  Goodloe  is  a  vulgar  sort  enough, 
come  to  know  him.  Most  men  are.  And  if  he  should 
happen  to  have  a  streak  of  honor  in  him,  it  will  be 
none  the  worse  for  the  girl.  Write  him  a  corking 
love  letter,  Janet,  and  clinch  it." 
-H-  15  -K- 


THE    WORLD'S    WARRANT 

He  rose  as  he  spoke,  with  a  grimace  directed  to 
the  dainty  dinner  gowns  worn  by  his  two  com 
panions.  "I  '11  tell  you  what  it  is,  I  'm  going  to  ask 
an  injunction  from  the  court  enjoining  you  two  girls 
from  dressing  for  dinner.  It  is  sheer  brutality  to 
force  such  an  example  upon  a  tired  man  in  a  God- 
forgotten  hole  like  this." 

"  Dressing  for  dinner  is  one's  duty  to  one's  neigh 
bor,  dear.  Jane  and  I  dress  to  advance  the  interests 
of  the  Company.  It  is  a  beautiful  example  of  self- 
abnegation.  Try  to  see  it  that  way." 

"  I  prefer  to  '  abnegate  self '  the  other  way," 
murmured  Carlysle  lazily.  "  I  'm  never  unselfish 
unless  I  'm  comfortable." 

"  But  the  Development  Company  ! "  cried  Miss 
Caruth  in  gay  protest,  falling  unexpectedly  upon  his 
flank  and  demurely  routing  him  with  slaughter. 
"  Contemplate,  if  you  please,  the  moral  tone  of  a 
Company  whose  officials  do  not  pander  to  the  Mam 
mon  of  Unrighteousness  ?  " 

The  Company  being  Carlysle's  pet  fetish,  before 
whom  he  offered  oblations  night  and  day  without 
ceasing,  he  succumbed,  and  with  a  gesture  of  gay 
capitulation  vanished  in  the  direction  of  his  dressing- 
room,  leaving  the  two  young  women  to  resume  their 
interrupted  stroll  upon  the  gallery,  awaiting  his 
return. 

They  were  charming  women,  both  ;  of  widely  dif 
fering  types,  yet  welded  into  closest  friendship  by 
-+  16  +- 


TO    PLAY    WITH    SOULS 

affinity  of  tastes  and  opinions.  They  had  been  col 
lege  chums,  and  were  meeting  in  this  somewhat  out- 
of-the-way  niche  of  the  world  for  the  first  time  since 
their  college  days,  an  interval  of  three  years,  which 
had  been  spent  by  Miss  Caruth  abroad,  and  by  her 
friend  in  the  regeneration  and  expansion  of  marriage 
with  a  man  whom  she  at  once  idealized  and  supple 
mented.  In  this  latter  capacity  she  had  followed 
him  South,  where  with  the  enthusiasm  of  their 
convictions  he,  with  a  handful  of  financial  pioneers, 
was  engaged  in  what  she  defined  as  "  making  over 
Alabama." 

The  elegance  of  their  dinner  gowns  would  have 
declared  them  exotic  to  their  present  environment 
had  the  analysis  extended  no  further ;  and  the  know- 
ledgef ul  eye  would  have  recognized  in  them  at  once 
highly  specialized  products  of  a  civilization  analo 
gous  in  its  effect  to  the  emery  wheel  of  the  lapidary 
upon  the  jewel  in  the  end  of  his  stick.  The  result  of 
this  finishing  process  was  easily  discernible  in  an 
impersonal  polish  that  belonged  equally  to  both  ;  a 
delicate,  fine  glaze  of  manner,  as  it  were,  through 
which  their  individualities  displayed  themselves  as 
from  beneath  a  transparent,  impenetrable  lacquer, 
brilliantly  enhancing  to  the  eye  of  the  social  adept, 
but  apt  to  be  a  trifle  confusing  and  discomfiting  to 
those  impetuous  souls  who  must  needs  touch  a  thing 
to  believe  it  real. 

There  was  about  both  women  an  attenuated  sug- 
-+  17  -)- 


THE    WORLD'S    WARRANT 

gestioli  of  having  consciously  carried  out  this  effect 
of  personality  in  the  exquisite  finish  of  their  exter 
nals  ;  in  the  level  clearness  of  their  voices,  whose 
pure,  hard  tones  had  the  unvibrating  sweetness  of 
porcelain  sharply  smitten ;  in  the  reserved  vivacity 
of  glance  and  feature,  trained  to  a  repressed  expres 
siveness  that  suggested  concentration  rather  than 
repose.  The  acuteness  of  intellectual  vision,  un 
doubtedly  possessed  by  both  in  a  high  degree,  was 
accented  by  this  effect  of  concentration  to  a  point 
where  it  became  a  sensitized  intelligence,  pervading 
the  entire  personality  of  each  and  not  dependent  in 
any  degree  upon  mobility  of  feature  or  modulation 
of  voice. 

This  defmiteness  of  personality  escaped  rigidity  in 
Mrs.  Carlysle  by  the  depth  of  a  shade  only;  pretty 
much  as  her  gray  eyes  were  softened  to  kindliness  by 
the  happy  chance  of  deepening  to  blue  at  the  edges 
of  their  irises. 

But  a  deep  core  of  warmth  lent  fluidity  to  Miss 
Caruth's  nature;  the  currents  of  her  being  pulsed 
visibly  at  times  beneath  her  glaze  of  reserve,  until 
she  seemed  actually  to  glow  through  it  like  an  ice 
bound  flower. 

She  was  a  girlish  woman  of  twenty-five ;  slender 
and  pliant  and  strong ;  with  long,  fine  lines,  exqui 
sitely  drawn  and  finished,  and  a  soft  indefinite  blend 
of  coloring  that  melted  into  shadowy  eyes,  and  hair 
of  a  deeper  tint  of  duskiness,  until  she  seemed  a 
— t-  18  -)— 


TO    PLAY    WITH    SOULS 

drawing  done  mellowly  in  one  tone.  For  the  rest, 
any  of  those  similes  that  express  power  sheathed  in 
softness,  or  intensity  combined  with  impalpability, 
would  have  admirably  expressed  her  ;  and  by  way  of 
comparison  she  most  resembled,  perhaps,  a  faintly 
colored  flame,  say  of  a  burning  chemical,  registering 
an  incredible  temperature,  yet  of  so  spirit-like  an 
aspect  as  to  be  scarcely  discernible. 

It  was  obvious  at  a  glance  that  the  gowns  that 
Mrs.  Carlysle  and  her  friend  wore  very  logically  ex 
pressed  the  women  wearing  them  ;  and  only  a  degree 
less  obvious,  that  a  not  inconsiderable  amount  of  time 
and  money  had  been  expended  upon  them,  to  pro 
duce  the  effect  of  simplicity,  that  accorded  with  the 
crudity  of  their  surroundings,  mingled  with  an  ele 
gant  costliness,  that,  it  is  just  possible  to  conceive, 
may  have  constituted  the  elevating  moral  tone  of 
which  Mrs.  Carlysle  had  made  mention. 

Each  was  in  perfect  harmony  with  herself  and  the 
other,  and  in  as  frank,  not  to  say  glaring,  discord 
as  can  be  imagined  with  the  disorganized  landscape 
about  them,  with  the  sole  exception  perhaps  of  the 
building  which  at  the  moment  afforded  them  a  back 
ground  for  their  charming  figures. 

The  Midland,  —  an  imposing  pile  of  limestone 
from  the  local  quarries,  —  whose  long  fagade,  pic 
turesquely  broken  by  a  huge  j)orte  cochere  glitter 
ing  sullenly  under  the  rays  of  the  low  sun,  was  the 
one  fully  equipped  enterprise  in  the  whole  of  the 

-H-    19   H- 


THE    WORLD'S    WARRANT 

embryonic  town,  and  was  considered  the  debutante 
investment's  "  drawing  card." 

In  the  Company's  prospectus  it  was  gravely  cited 
as  being  "located  in  the  business  portion  of  the 
progressive  town  of  Morganton,"  —  the  adjective 
being  used  so  nearly  in  its  literal  sense  as  to  be  dis 
tinctly  ironical,  the  progressive  town  of  Morganton 
being  in  fact  in  a  state  of  progression  from  the 
inchoateness  of  a  financial  scheme  to  such  definite- 
ness  of  perception  as  resides  in  a  blue  print. 

The  Land  and  Mineral  Development  Company  was 
made  up  of  young  men  not  yet  arrived  as  capitalists, 
but  with  some  money,  and  rather  more  brains,  and  a 
very  cogent  determination  to  use  the  one  to  increase 
the  other.  Though  at  this  precise  interval  of  time 
Morganton  had  in  the  way  of  assets  a  charter  from 
the  State  of  Alabama,  a  situs  upon  the  "  gently  roll 
ing  levels  of  the  richest  mineral  and  agricultural  lands 
upon  the  Western  continent,"  two  trunk  lines  of  rail 
road,  a  railway  station,  and  —  the  hotel.  The  town 
itself,  for  the  moment,  lay  about  in  scattered  heaps 
upon  the  lean,  denuded  fields,  in  piles  of  brick  and 
stone  and  blocks  of  lumber  brought  in  by  fussy, 
ejaculatory  freight  engines  and  dumped  beside  exca 
vations,  gaping  in  the  red-clay  soil  like  new  wounds 
red  and  bleeding. 

To  the  right  the  river  ran  between  endless  cot 
ton  fields  covered  with  a  ragged  carpet  of  stunted 
cotton  ready  for  picking,  and  farther  yet  the  fields 
-H  20  H- 


TO    PLAY    WITH    SOULS 

were  girdled  by  a  ring  of  dull  purple  hills.  The 
Midland,  which  as  yet  housed  the  entire  colony, 
formed  with  the  railway  station  a  core  of  intense 
life  and  energy,  about  which  the  life  of  the  old 
farms  lapsed  drowsily. 


THE    WORLD'S    WARRANT 


CHAPTER  II 

"  'Tis  as  easy  now  for  the  heart  to  be  true 
As  for  grass  to  be  green  or  for  skies  to  be  blue  ; 
'Tis  the  natural  way  of  living." 

IN  the  beginning  the  Development  Company's  raison 
d'etre  had  been  the  opening  of  the  Etowah  coal  and 
iron  fields,  that  lay  supine  beneath  a  ragged  miser's 
coat  of  knee-high  cotton  that  covered  all  the  string 
of  counties  adjacent  to  the  river. 

Peter  Clark  and  Carlysle  had  come  to  Alabama 
with  a  small  party  of  Eastern  capitalists  of  the  sort 
•who  look  into  things,  and  to  the  shrewd  eyes  of 
these  young  financiers  the  conditions  they  had  met 
there  had  seemed  a  veritable  magnet  of  commerce. 
Nature  had,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  done  some  rather 
clever  combining  of  productions  and  resources  in 
this  particular  corner  of  the  earth,  of  which  these 
gods  in  knee  pants  had  a  pretty  shrewd  appreciation. 
They  pronounced  it  good,  plenty  good ;  some  of  the 
more  optimistic  spirits  among  them  even  going  to 

the  length  of  declaring  it  a  "  d good  put,  by 

Jove!  "  And  they  set  themselves  cheerfully  to  work 
to  supplement  her  efforts  by  the  addition  of  men  and 
capital. 

The  Land  and  Mineral  Development  Company  was 
-i-  22  -K- 


NATURAL    WAY    OF    LIVING 

organized  forthwith,  with  Carlysle  as  its  president, 
and  Morganton  emerged  from  nebulosity  by  due 
process  of  evolution,  as  a  charter,  a  situs,  and  a  blue 
print. 

And  the  evening  and  the  morning  were  the  first 
day. 

Fortune  comes  to  men  in  all  sorts  of  guises  and 
disguises ;  some  are  shrewd  enough  to  penetrate  the 
masque,  and  bold  enough  to  seize  her,  and  uncompro 
mising  enough  to  wring  from  her  what  they  call,  pro 
saically,  opportunity ;  others  delve  for  it  with  sweat- 
blinded  eyes  turned  downward  their  whole  life  long, 
while,  as  like  as  not,  she  stands  at  their  elbow  grin 
ning  in  a  harlequin's  coat. 

It  came  to  Peter  Clark  and  Carlysle  in  this  way : 
The  day  before  the  departure  of  the  party  the  two 
young  men  were  taking  a  farewell  drive  about  the 
red-clay  roads  that,  like  a  tangled  terra-cotton  ribbon, 
loops  the  river  counties  together,  when  they  made 
the  great  find,  and  came  plump  upon  the  pot  of 
rainbow  gold,  —  the  Prometheus  brand  that  was  to 
vitalize  the  whole  scheme  and  breathe  into  it  the 
breath  of  life  and  success. 

Just  beyond  Brantley's  plantation,  where  the  party 
had  been  making  headquarters,  Hickory  Ridge 
thrusts  down  an  impetuous  elbow  as  though  bent 
upon  barring  the  river's  farther  progress  south  ;  but 
the  gentle  giant  had  only  made  a  supple  bend  and 
flowed  on  unfretted  beneath  the  beard  of  pines  that 
-H  23  +- 


clung  tooth  and  nail  to  the  mountain's  steep  ascent. 
And  here,  where  the  shadow  of  the  pines  was  black 
est  upon  the  rugged  escarpment,  Chinquepin  Falls, 
slipping  through  the  clenched  teeth  of  the  boulders, 
flung  herself  downward  in  a  mad  leap  of  two  hun 
dred  feet,  like  a  hunted  thing,  to  the  river  below, 
landing  amid  a  smother  of  foam  and  a  clash  of  silver 
cymbals,  half  within  the  river's  bed  and  half  within 
the  gored  side  of  the  mountain. 

The  two  men  had  been  following  half  idly  and 
half  curiously  the  muffled  thunder  of  the  waters, 
and,  emerging  from  the  dense  screen  of  the  woods 
with  its  jubilate  in  their  ears,  had  come  face  to  face 
with  the  splendid  sheet  of  foam-flecked  water,  curved 
like  a  silver  bow  across  the  mountain's  side.  For 
a  second  they  stood,  in  dumfounded  admiration,  its 
deep  roar  cutting  them  off  from  the  world,  look 
ing  upward  to  where  the  dark  pines  trembled  to 
the  rush  of  the  water,  shooting  downward  like  an 
avalanche. 

"  Let  there  be  light ! "  shouted  Carlysle,  in  a 
burst  of  admiration  that  carried  him  sheer  over  the 
verge  of  poetic  license  into  unconscious  profanity, 
lifting  his  hat  as  he  spoke  in  involuntary  homage. 
"  You  beauty !  You  goddess !  You  dream  of 
power ! " 

"  '  Dream'  ?  "  echoed  Clark,  his  eyes  hot  with  ex 
citement  ;  "  it 's  power  incarnate !  Power  to  set  every 
wheel  in  Alabama  spinning  and  keep  'em  spinning 
-».  24  -*- 


NATURAL    WAY    OF    LIVING 

world  without  end  !  Jove,  Carlysle,  she  'd  run  every 
plant  in  the  State  of  Alabama  for  time  and  eternity !  " 

"Ay,"  said  Carlysle  absently,  not  moving  his 
eyes  from  the  falls ;  and  for  a  space  neither  man 
spoke  again.  A  simultaneous  realization  of  the 
meaning  of  the  falls  as  a  factor  in  the  development 
of  the  State's  resources  had  flashed  into  the  minds 
of  each,  carrying  with  it  the  instantaneous  convic 
tion  of  success  upon  a  scale  undreamed  of  by  either. 
The  Development  Company,  a  good  conservative 
scheme  enough,  but  requiring  time  and  money  in  its 
development,  had  in  the  space  of  ten  seconds  leaped 
into  a  stupendous  certainty  in  the  possession  of  this 
Prometheus  gift  of  gods'  power  to  transmute  flying 
foam  and  mist  into  solid  stock  and  dividends.  This 
forest  Danae  had  reversed  the  legend  and  flashed 
downward  to  them  amid  a  shower  of  gold. 

"Now  why,"  Carlysle  broke  out  at  last  with  angry 
vehemence,  —  "  why  did  that  incredible  ass,  Brantley, 
hide  this  from  us  ?  What  under  the  canopy  of  heaven 
could  he  expect  to  do  with  it  alone  ?  " 

"  Pooh,"  said  Clark  contemptuously,  "  Brantley 
has  never  seen  this,  not  in  the  sense  that  you  and  I 
see  it.  If  he  'd  supposed  you  'd  want  to  get  up  a 
picnic,  now !  Talk  about  Arcadian  simplicity —  with 
this  gold  mine  running  to  waste  here !  " 

"  Whose  land  is  this  ? "  suddenly  demanded 
Carlysle,  meeting  his  companion's  eyes,  that  had 
hardened  at  his  question  to  a  cold  determination, 
-+  25  4- 


THE    WORLD'S    WARRANT 

with  his  own  full  of  half-quizzical,  half-exasperated 
laughter. 

"  Darn  their  patriotism,  and  the  '  altars  of  their 
sires' !"  remarked  Clark  briefly,  apropos  of  nothing, 
but  with  the  emphasis  of  reminiscent  vindictiveness. 
Carlysle  answered  his  tone  by  an  easy  tolerant  laugh. 

"  It 's  natural  enough,  Peter,  they  'd  want  to 
swing  on  to  their  land  ;  it 's  all  the  beggars  brought 
out  of  the  war,  you  know." 

"  But  what  can  the  duffers  do  with  naked  land?" 
demanded  Clark,  with  acrid  good  sense.  "And  if  we 
set  up  the  capital" 

"You  ought  to  carry  off  the  swag?"  laughed 
Carlysle. 

"  Yes  ;  by  George,  we  ought !  " 

Clark  and  Carlysle  knew  each  other  well;  each 
man  had  a  good  working  estimate  of  the  other's 
ability  and  his  limitations,  given  such  and  such  con 
ditions  to  wrest  from  them  the  essentials  of  success. 
They  had  a  quiet,  serious  talk  as  they  drove  back  to 
Brantley's  place  through  the  blooming  woods;  a  talk 
of  titles,  of  options,  of  riparian  rights,  and  possible 
bills  to  be  "got  through,"  interlarded  by  allusions  as 

trenchant  as  brief  to  "  d Southern  unprogres- 

siveness,"  with  a  result  that  a  tentative  programme 
had  been  sketched  out  before  they  parted.  Clark 
decided  to  remain  behind  as  Brantley's  guest  for  a 
couple  of  weeks  longer  to  "  go  into  the  thing,"  and 
after  a  day  or  two  spent  among  the  dusty  records  of 

-+    26    4- 


NATURAL    WAY    OF    LIVING 

the  Pike  County  court-house  at  Brandon,  and  a  couple 
more  given  to  careful  probing  of  old  Brantley  as  to 
the  owner  of  the  adjacent  lands  along1  the  river,  de 
cided  to  put  it  to  the  touch,  spite  of  Brantley's  coun 
sel  which  had  made  Clark's  keen,  rather  shallow  gray 
eye  grow  harder,  and  his  square  chin  squarer  still ; 
for  Brantley  had  admitted  with  saturnine  frankness 
that  "  Jourd  "  had  declared  his  fixed  determination 
to  have  no  "  Yankee  locuses  er  settlin'  "  on  his  land  ; 
"  he  'd  had  all  uv  their  sort  en-durin'  er  the  wah  " 
that  he  could  put  up  with.  But  Brantley  had  added 
as  a  poultice  to  this  bitter  wound,  to  what  he  supposed 
would  be  Clark's  sensibilities,  the  information  that 
"  Jourd  had  ben  ergin  ever'thing  in  th'  wide  created 
world  sence  th'  creation  er  man  on  down  to  th'  organ- 
i-zation  er  this  here  Developmm£  Company." 

But  Clark,  though  slightly  dashed  by  old  Jourdan's 
classification,  allowed  no  grass  to  sprout  beneath  his 
brisk  Eastern  footsteps,  and  the  next  day  found  him 
driving  along  one  of  the  deep,  red-clay  roads  that 
gash  the  face  of  the  glebe,  in  the  direction  of  Isom 
Jourdan's  plantation,  to  open  negotiations  for  the 
transfer  of  certain  rights  in  the  water.  "  Honestly, 
if  he  '11  let  you,"  had  run  Carlysle's  last  desperate 
injunction  from  the  steps  as  the  train  pulled  out; 
"  by  fraud  if  we  must !  " 

Clark  was  turning  this  advice  over  in  his  mind  as 
he  drove  ;  the  hour  was  early,  and  upon  the  dew-wet 
clay  of  the  road  the  horses'  feet  gave  back  a  muffled 
-  -*-  27  H- 


THE    WORLD'S    WARRANT 

thudding;  an  opal,  cloud-dappled  summer  sky  was 
overhead,  and  between  the  tall  hedges  curtained  with 
wild  roses,  Clark  caught  glimpses  of  the  cotton  fields 
on  either  side,  covered  with  the  corrugated  velvet 
of  young  cotton  as  far  as  eye  could  see.  Clark's  eye 
rested  upon  it  with  contemptuous  antagonism.  He 
knew  the  job  he  had  before  him. 

Cotton  is  the  fetish  of  the  agricultural  South.  To 
divorce  the  Southern  planter  from  his  cotton  field 
is  not  only  to  snatch  the  morsel  from  his  plate  and 
the  drink  from  his  cup,  but,  as  he  sees  it,  to  rob  him 
of  his  gods  and  his  fathers'  gods;  to  take  from 
him  the  traditions  of  his  race  and  the  wisdom  of  his 
ancestors;  and  Clark's  experience  with  the  planters 
throughout  Pike  and  Morgan  in  the  last  ten  days 
had  supplied  him  with  a  fair  presage  of  what  lay  in 
store  for  him. 

But  men  and  money,  so  he  told  himself,  were  the 
tools  that  best  fitted  his  hand.  He  knew  to  an  atom 
the  ratio  of  attraction  between  man  and  money,  and 
knew  it  to  be  greater  than  any  known  affinity  be 
tween  man  and  land  —  known  to  Peter  Clark,  at  any 
rate.  So,  with  his  faith  founded  upon  the  universal 
solvency  of  cash,  Clark  drove  blithely  onward  through 
the  crystal  freshness  of  the  early  summer  day. 

There  had  been  no  indication  of  a  dwelling  to 

break  the  green-and-gold  monotony  of  the  endless 

cotton  fields,  but  presently  Clark's  horses  slackened 

speed  before  a  wide-barred  gate  that  gave  upon  the 

-+  28  H- 


NATURAL    WAY    OF    LIVING 

road  with  so  much  finality  that  Clark  accepted  the 
hint  and  turned  in  the  entrance.  A  grassy  roadway 
stretched  before  him,  interminably,  it  seemed  to  the 
young  man  as  he  drove  onward  between  continuous 
lines  of  locust  trees,  that  stretched  away  in  a  per 
spective  of  snowy  bloom  ahead  of  him;  the  air  was 
heavy  with  the  cloying  perfume  and  drowsy  with 
the  drone  of  bees  swarming  in  the  roof  of  bloom; 
no  faintest  sound  of  human  life  impinged  upon  the 
wide  silence.  Clark  seemed  to  have  strayed  into  a 
world  whose  elements  were  perfume  and  golden 
silence.  The  wheels  ran  noiselessly  over  a  carpet 
of  unkept  grass,  starred  thick  with  flowers,  and  far 
down  between  the  blooming  trees  a  flutter  of  blue, 
that  had  been  intermittently  visible,  by  degrees  re 
solved  itself  into  a  woman's  form.  The  clear  white 
light  beneath  the  trees  revealed  her  as  a  slender, 
wand-like  creature,  and  the  buoyancy  of  her  move 
ments  suggested  that  she  was  young.  She  was  clad 
in  a  faded  cotton-checks  gown,  so  short  that  it  dis 
played  her  coarse  brogan  shoes  stained  by  the  dewy 
grass ;  a  shapeless  sunbonnet  hid  her  face,  and  as 
Clark  drew  in  the  horse  beside  her  she  raised  a 
slender  sun-burned  arm  and  pulled  nervously  at  it, 
drawing  it  farther  over  her  face  so  that  it  was  com 
pletely  hidden  from  him.  Her  gown  was  roughly 
turned  in  at  the  throat,  and  as  Clark  waited  beside 
her  for  her  to  answer  his  question  if  Mr.  Isom  Jour- 
dan  lived  anywhere  near  there,  he  noted  idly  that  her 
-H  29  +- 


THE    WORLD'S    WARRANT 

throat  and  the  under  surface  of  her  chin  had  the  deli 
cate  whiteness  of  porcelain.  She  still  kept  her  arm 
between  them  as  she  answered,  tartly  Clark  thought, 
that  he  lived  right  there. 

"  Bight  on  ahead,  do  you  mean  ? "  persisted 
Clark. 

"  Right  on  erhead,"  she  retorted.  Clark  was 
sure  about  the  tartness  this  time,  though  the  voice 
that  came  from  the  depths  of  the  limp  sunbonnet 
was  as  liquid  as  a  thrush's  note.  He  stooped  from 
his  seat  in  an  effort  to  see  down  the  collapsed  fun 
nel  of  the  bonnet. 

"  Is  he  at  home  ?  "  he  ventured  further. 

"  Pa?  TJv  course  not,"  with  curt  decision.  "  What 
would  pa  be  doin'  home  this  time  er  day  ? "  she 
added  combatively. 

"  Waiting  for  me,  I  hope,"  smiled  Clark,  amused  at 
her  brusqueness.  "I  rather  expected  it,  you  know,  as 
I  sent  a  note  last  night  asking  for  an  appointment." 

"  Air  you  th'  Yankee  fum  Mr.  Brantley's  ?  "  she 
demanded,  with  gathering  asperity,  as,  moved  by 
irrepressible  curiosity,  she  raised  her  face  to  his. 
The  ruffled  edges  of  the  bonnet  fell  backward,  and 
her  face  looked  out  at  Clark  as  from  the  curved  cup 
of  a  convolvulus  ;  she  had  repeated  her  question  be 
fore  Clark  remembered  to  reply. 

"  B'cause  'f  you  air  —  -  'n'  I  know  you  air  !  —  pa 
said  fur  th'  whole  kit  'n'  bilin'  uv  you  to  git  right 
offen  his  Ian'  and  stay  off." 
-H  30  •(- 


NATURAL    WAY    OF    LIVING 

The  delicate  shadows  from  the  swaying  boughs 
fell  across  her  face,  and  as  Clark  looked  down  into 
her  eyes  he  silently  corrected  his  first  impression 
of  them  as  black  ;  seen  in  the  full  light  they  were 
dark  ink-blue, —  more  accurately  the  blue  of  a  dam 
son's  bloom  or  the  early  morning  shadows  under 
deep  cedars,  —  and  they  surveyed  Clark  with  the 
grave  steadiness  of  a  child's,  as  she  awaited  the  effect 
of  her  astounding  message  upon  him. 

"  Where  were  you  going  ?  "  he   asked,  pausing 
with  his  foot  upon  the   step.    He  had  ignored  her 
message  entirely,  to  her  obvious  surprise.  It  occurred 
to  Clark  that  she  had  expected  a  violent  outburst,  - 
that  she  was  accustomed  to  violence. 

"  Me  ?  I  was  goin'  to  meet  you  !  "  with  unmis 
takably  belligerent  emphasis. 

"  To  meet  me  !  "  cried  Clark.  "  Oh,  I  see  !  To 
warn  me  off  the  premises,  eh  ?  " 

She  made  him  no  reply,  but  her  unsmiling  eyes 
continued  to  peruse  his  face  with  an  Eve-like  frank 
ness.  Clark  stepped  down  and  held  out  his  hand. 

"  When  a  girl  comes  to  meet  me  I  always  drive 
her  home,"  he  replied  gravely  to  her  indignant  start 
backward.  "  Even  a  Yankee  knows  enough  for  that ! " 
he  rallied  her,  stooping  to  look  under  the  bonnet  as 
he  spoke.  She  snatched  it  jealously  closer,  but  her 
eyes  through  the  crevice  met  his,  lustrous,  laughing, 
bewitchingly  provocative. 

"  Come,"  Clark  urged  her  with  extended  hand. 
^.  31  H- 


THE    WORLD'S    WARRANT 

"  Do  you  s'pose  I  'd  ride  with  er  Yankee  ?  "  she 
inquired  tauntingly. 

"  I  think  you  might,"  Clark  retorted  coolly,  "  if 
the  Yankee  is  willing  to  ride  with  a  red-headed 
girl !  " 

The  girl  whirled  swiftly  upon  him,  red  lips  apart, 
hands  clutching  the  bonnet  determinedly,  full  of 
amazed,  chagrined  question.  Clark  laughed  teas- 
ingly. 

"  I  saw  it  the  first  thing,"  he  informed  her  non 
chalantly.  "  But,  of  course,"  —  with  exaggerated 
politeness,  —  "of  course  I  should  never  have  dreamed 
of  mentioning  it  except  that  you  threw  it  in  my  teeth 
about  being  a  Yankee,  and  refused  to  ride  with  me." 

"You  air  er  Yankee,"  she  retorted  breathlessly, 
"  'n'  they  ain't  no  use  in  you  tryin'  to  deny  it ! 
Even  '£,"  —  she  regarded  him  meditatively,  —  "  'f 
you  don't  look  like  what  pa  calls  'em." 

"  What  does  he  call  them  ?  "  asked  Clark,  smiling 
into  her  eyes. 

"  '  D blood-suckers,'  "  said  she  easily ;  "  but 

you  ain't,  air  you?  " 

"  I  'm  afraid  I  am,"  said  the  young  man,  laugh 
ing  as  he  drew  out  a  card  and  handed  it  to  her; 
"  but  I  'm  not  the  dangerous  variety  —  not  the  sort 
your  father  used  to  know.  It 's  not  blood  I  'm  after, 
it's  dividends ! " 

She  turned  the  card  over  and  over  in  her  hand, 
her  lips  curving  into  a  smile  of  Puck-like  derision. 
->•  32  +- 


NATURAL    WAY    OF    LIVING 

"  Then  you  'd  jest  as  well  traipse  back  down  th' 
ruver,  fur  we  ain't  got  none  !  Pa,"  —  a  slightly 
scornful  toss  of  her  head  accented  her  contempt,  — 
"  pa  don't  raise  nothin'  but  cotton.  Gentlemen  never 
does !  Nobody  but  po'  white  trash  ever  raises 
truck  !  " 

Clark  roared  with  laughter.  "  Do  you  suppose  I 
run  a  stall?"  he  asked  her. 

"  They  ain't  no  tellin'  what  er  Yankee  'd  do,"  she 
retorted  coolly.  Her  eyes  were  upon  the  card  in 
her  hand,  and  for  a  moment  she  had  forgotten  her 
determined  defense  of  her  hair.  Clark  bent  forward, 
and  with  a  gentle,  unexpected  movement  lifted  the 
shapeless  bonnet  and  bared  her  head  to  the  blazing 
light.  It  was  covered  with  absolutely  flame-colored 
hair — hair  whose  deepest  shadow  was  burnished 
gold  —  in  curling  masses  that  waved  low  upon  her 
brow  and  almost  hid  her  rosy  ears,  clubbed  school 
girl  fashion  in  her  neck.  Her  face  as  she  turned  it 
upon  Clark  was  one  flame  of  temper ;  her  cheeks 
blazed  poppy-red,  and  he  noticed  that  her  delicate 
nose  turned  sharply  upward  at  the  point,  and  her 
red  mouth  had  sharp  curves  that  suggested  that  it 
might  sting  as  well  as  kiss,  spite  of  its  deep,  dimpled 
corners. 

" 'F  that's  all  th'  perliteness  you've  got!"  she 
flung  at  him  through  a  mist  of  tears,  "I  —  I  don't 
blame  pa  none  fur  runnin'  you  offen  his  Ian'  !    But 
nobody  could  n't  'speck  no  better  uv  er  Yankee  !  " 
— t-  33  •*- 


With  his  hand  behind  him  holding  the  bonnet, 
Clark  leaned  upon  the  trap,  regarding  her  with 
laughing  eyes  as  she  stormed  at  him,  with  wet  eyes 
and  blazing  cheeks,  making  an  occasional  dart  at 
the  bonnet,  which  he  held  beyond  her  reach,  as  swift 
and  glancing  as  a  humming-bird's,  enjoying  her  in 
tantalizing  silence.  Presently  he  said,  quietly  :  — 

"  Fie,  what  a  spit-fire  it  is  !  Pouting  and  scolding 
and  calling  names  !  I  've  heard  often  and  often  of 
the  beautiful  dignified  manners  of  Southern  girls ; 
but  if  this  is  a  sample  of  Southern  aristocracy  "  — 

She  doubled  her  slender  fist  and  struck  fiercely 
at  him. 

"  I  hate  you  !  —  hate  you  !  Git  offen  pa's  Ian' ! 
Git  off ! " 

Clark  broke  into  a  delighted  laugh  as  he  caught 
her  hands  and  held  her  fast. 

"  I  thought  you  'd  do  that !  "  He  bent  his  face 
to  hers,  —  "  North  or  South,  East  or  West,  it 's  the 
law  of  the  land,  and  every  girl  knows  it !  A  kiss  for 
a  blow." 

But  she  fended  him  off  so  earnestly  that  he 
paused.  "If  you  say  not,  of  course.  Come,"  —  his 
eyes  coaxed  her,  —  "be  friends  with  me!  See  how 
sweet  everything  is."  Clark  looked  about  him 
vaguely,  suddenly  conscious  of  the  sweetness  of  the 
June  day  about  him,  that  struck  inward  to  his  senses 
with  the  sharpness  of  an  essence.  "  You  be  sweet, 

too,  won't  you  ?  " 

-+  34  -.- 


NATURAL    WAY    OF    LIVING 

He  could  see  her  draggled  lashes  hiding  her 
downcast  eyes ;  suddenly  she  lifted  them,  and,  as 
lightly  as  a  wind-blown  flower  might  dash  off  the 
rain,  dashed  off  her  tears. 

"  How  do  you  know  I  ken  ?  "  she  asked  him  de 
murely. 

"  How  do  I  know  that  these  flowers  are  sweet  or 
the  sky  is  blue  ?  "  retorted  he,  with  brief  conclusive- 
ness,  as  he  drew  his  reins  through  his  arm.  "If  you 
won't  drive  with  me,  I'll  walk  with  you." 

"  I  did  n't  mean  I  would  n't  —  fur  keeps,"  she  in 
formed  him  gravely.  "  I  was  jest  'sposin'." 


"Oh 


i  " 


He  gave  her  his  hand,  and  this  time  she  accepted 
it  and  sprang  lightly  to  the  high  seat. 

"'I  think,"  said  she  then,  with  a  gracious  dignity, 
perfectly  composed  and  conscious  of  itself,  and  en 
tirely  unexpected  to  Clark,  —  "I  think  you  ought 
to  ax  my  pardon  fur  th'  way  you  acted.  Er  gentle 
man  always  'pologizes  'f  he  makes  er  lady  cry." 

Something  in  her  face  silenced  the  laugh  upon 
Clark's  lips ;  he  bent  his  knee  gayly  to  the  floor  of 
the  trap  as  he  cried  :  "  Most  humbly,  lady  fair  !  " 

To  his  surprise  she  took  him  seriously,  and  sur 
rendered  her  hand  to  his  lips  with  a  quaint  savor  of 
the  great  lady. 

"  Forgive  me,"  he  murmured,  for  the  moment 
genuinely  contrite. 

"  You  're  very  'scusable,"  she  murmured  softly 
-+  35  +- 


THE    WORLD'S    WARRANT 

in  return,  and,  the  conventionalities  being  thus 
happily  disposed  of,  Clark  took  his  seat  at  her 
side. 

"You  have  n't  told  me  your  name,"  he  suggested, 
as  they  drove  on  with  the  low  wind  wooingly  in 
their  faces. 

"  You  first,"  she  admonished  him  serenely. 

"  But  you  know  mine  !  I  gave  you  my  card  ages 
ago." 

"Card?"  blankly. 

"  Can't  you  read  ?  "  he  asked  her  bluntly,  after  a 
moment  of  shocked  silence. 

"  I  ken  read  printin'  'f  it 's  big  'n'  no  hard  words. 
You  tell  me." 

"  Peter  Clark." 

She  broke  into  a  low  gurgle  of  laughter,  as  clear 
as  running  water. 

"  '  Peter,  Peter,  punkin-eater, 

Had  er  wife  'n'  could  n't  keep  her  !  '  ' 

She  gibed  him.  "  'N'  I  thought  shore  you  'd  be 
named  Claude  or  —  or  somethin'  like  that !  " 

"  Jove,"  protested  Clark.  "  Do  I  look  like  that 
sort  of  muff  !  " 

"  You  can  have  three  guesses  at  mine,"  —  she 
raised  one  rosy  finger  to  keep  tally.  "  One  "  — 

"  Apple-blossom,"  announced  Clark  firmly. 

"Pooh!" 

"  Was    that    wrong  ?     Now   I    have    it !  "  —  he 
looked  deep  into  her  eyes.    "  Heart' s-ease  !  " 
-+  36  H- 


NATURAL    WAY    OF    LIVING 

"That 's  two,"  she  warned  him.  "  'N'  '£  you  miss 
this  time  you  won't  never,  never  " 

"  I  'm  not  going  to  miss  !  I  've  known  it  all  the 
time  ;  I  was  only  jesting  before.  It 's  Goldy-Locks, 
of  course  !  " 

The  trap  had  been  rolling  smoothly  over  the 
grass-grown  avenue,  but  as  Clark  spoke  the  wheels 
grated  upon  a  harsher  soil  and  they  passed  between 
two  tall  stone  pillars  whose  inner  surfaces  were 
stained  with  iron  rust,  as  though  a  gate  had  once 
hung  there,  and  upon  the  top  of  each  the  shattered 
figure  of  a  lion  still  ramped  in  splintered  dignity  ; 
a  tufted  tail  or  a  hind  claw  gripping  the  stone  alone 
remaining  to  show  how  bravely  once  its  owner  might 
have  upborne  the  heavy  stone  arch  whose  scattered 
blocks  still  lay  about  the  entrance. 

On  either  hand  dense  thickets  of  blooming  shrubs 
shut  them  in  ;  crepe-myrtle  flushed  the  green  thick 
ets,  and  calycanthus  and  purple  lilac  and  white  were 
lashed  together  into  an  almost  impenetrable  jungle 
by  the  tangled  cordage  of  honeysuckle  and  yellow 
jasmine  ;  here  and  there  the  huge  tent  of  a  magno 
lia  rose,  glittering  among  the  dull  greens  like*  mail 
in  the  sunlight,  and  Clark's  wondering  eye  detected 
the  stone  casque  of  a  warrior  or  his  shattered  shield 
protruded  through  the  flaunting  banners  of  passion 
flower  and  trumpet  vine. 

They  rounded  a  curve  in  the  high  green  wall,  and 
without  warning  the  avenue  terminated  in  a  wide 
^-  37  H- 


circle  in  front  of  a  huge  pile  of  debris,  heaped  in 
tumultuous  confusion  in  the  centre  of  the  clearing1. 
Clark  pulled  in  the  horses  sharply,  and  sat  gazing  in 
silence  upon  the  strange  scene.  The  mass  of  ruins 
was  covered  with  drifted  earth  and  green  with  fresh 
grass,  and  from  it  tall  forest  trees  sprang  vigorously, 
their  roots  entwined  among  piles  of  brick  and  stone 
and  rotting  joists  and  beams ;  marble  columns,  shat 
tered  and  defaced,  showed  in  the  mass  like  the  white 
bones  of  a  skeleton,  and  portions  of  an  ornate  cor 
nice,  carved  and  lettered,  low  down  in  the  heap,  bore 
mute  testimony  to  how  complete  had  been  the  fall 
of  that  once  proud  rooftree.  Immense  oaken  beams 
that  had  resisted  the  terrific  impact  of  the  cannon 
were  sullenly  yielding,  cell  by  cell,  to  time's  more 
insidious  attacks.  Midway  the  mass,  which  was  not 
entirely  unlike  a  great  green  grave,  a  flight  of  wide 
marble  steps,  firm  and  untouched,  below  the  range 
of  the  cannon  doubtless,  led  upward  to  the  devas 
tated  threshold,  and  paused  with  a  blankness  inde 
scribably  desolate. 

The  silence  of  the  place  was  broken  only  by  the 
calling  of  birds,  and,  just  distinguishable  in  relief 
against  the  sunny  quiet  of  the  lost  garden,  the  roar 
of  Chinquepin  came  dully  to  Clark's  ears.  Unending, 
unchanging,  pervasive ;  the  genius  of  that  desolate 
solitude. 

"  What  is  this  place  ?  "  asked  Clark,  in  a  hushed 
voice,  leaning  forward  with  his  reins  hanging  loosely 

-H    38     4- 


NATURAL    WAY    OF    LIVING 

between  his  dropped  hands,  his  eyes  immovably  upon 
the  ravaged  scene  before  him. 

"  This  is  McGuion  House,  where  I  live,"  said  the 
girl  stiffly.  "  Th'  door  is  on  the  other  side  —  'f  you 
wanter  go  in." 

A  flush  had  risen  to  her  cheek,  and  a  trace  o£ 
wistful  uneasiness  betrayed  itself  in  her  voice;  but 
Clark  was  not  heeding  her. 

"That,"  he  cried,  pointing  insistently, — "that 
buried  house  !  You  cannot  live  there,  you  know." 

"  But  I  do  !  "  sharply,  though  with  quivering  lips. 
"  I  was  born  there,  and  I  have  never  lived  anywhere 
else." 

Her  glance  had  hardened  as  it  rested  upon  the 
mass  of  ruins  she  claimed  as  her  home,  but  some 
thing  in  the  young  man's  half-awed,  half-indignant 
surprise  softened  her  in  spite  of  herself;  her  voice, 
as  she  went  on,  trembled  with  indignation,  but  Clark 
easily  detected  it  as  an  impersonal  resentment  that 
did  not,  in  reality,  include  either  her  own  feelings 
or  what  she  possibly  credited  him  with. 

"  That 's  my  grandfather's,  Lacy  McGuion's, 
house,  that  th'  Yankees  knocked  down  with  cannon 
balls  endurin'  th'  wah;  out  there,"  —  she  pointed  to 
a  circular  opening  in  a  maze  of  box,  —  "is  where 
they  piled  all  the  beautiful  pictures  and  books  and 
marble  things  outen  th'  house  and  burned  them  "  — 

O 

"  In  the  name  of  heaven,  why  !  "  cried  Clark,  his 
eager  eyes  traversing  the  country  round  them.  "  Ah, 

-H  39  H- 


THE    WORLD'S    WARRANT 

I  think  I  see ;  the  house  must  have  been  in  the  way 
of  some  important  manreuvre" — 

"  It  was  meanness  !  "  cried  the  girl  furiously,  her 
eyes  black  with  anger,  her  short  red  upper  lip  trem 
bling  as  she  faced  him.  "  Meanness,  I  tell  you ! 
What  they  done  ever'thin'  else  they  done  fur  !  Yan 
kees  air  the  meanest  things  on  earth !  They  stole 
V  butchered  'n'  -  -  'n'  they  'd  do  it  ergin  'f  they  had 
er  chanst "  — 

Clark  leaned  over  her,  smiling  in  spite  of  the 
moment,  and  laid  his  finger  on  her  angry  lips. 
"  Hush  !  "  he  said  gently  ;  "  it  's  too  horrible  for 
a  little  tender'  thing  like  you  to  be  so  harsh  and 
bitter." 

"  They  air  'n'  I  hate  them  !  "  she  reiterated,  as  she 
thrust  his  hand  away.  Clark  caught  her  hands  and 
holding  them  firmly  made  her  meet  his  eyes. 

"  Take  it  back,"  he  cried  imperatively.  "  Say  you 
did  not  mean  it !  " 

A  sudden  quiet  fell  upon  her ;  she  stretched  out 
her  hand  with  an  unconscious  gesture  of  dramatic 
dignity  to  the  buried  home,  the  devastated  gardens. 
"  When  they  take  that  back  !  When  ever'thin'  is 
just  like  it  was  in  Grandfather  McGuion's  time, 
then  I  '11  say  I  did  n't  mean  it !  " 

"Good!"    cried    Clark.     "I'll    take    you    up! 

That  's  exactly  what  I  'm  here  for.    The  Yankees 

wrought  this  ruin,  you  say  ?  Well,  the  Yankees  will 

undo  it.    All  this  will  be  a  thousand  times  better 

-t-  40  -i- 


NATURAL    WAY    OF    LIVING 

than  it  was—  How?  I  'm  going  to  tell  you;  come." 
He  leaped  down  and  held  his  hands  to  her.  She 
gave  him  hers  and  set  one  little  brogan  upon  the 
step,  studying  him  with  perplexed  eyes.  As  he  set 
her  down  a  whisper,  soft  as  velvet,  brushed  his  ear. 

"  I  did  n't  mean  you,  nohow." 

"Sure?" 

«  Shore." 

A  lilac  tree  overhung  the  steps,  thrusting  great 
heart-shaped  clusters  of  pearly  blooms  through  its 
green  roof  and  making  a  tiny  shelter  from  the  sun, 
growing  more  ardent  toward  noon,  and  here  they 
sat  them  down.  Clark  flung  himself  upon  the  stone 
at  her  feet,  and  with  the  sunlight  dappling  his  bare 
head  with  motes  of  gold,  the  delicate  odor  of  the 
lilac  in  the  air  about  him,  and  the  girl's  face  set  in 
a  frame  of  spring  green  above  him,  Clark  began  his 
recital  of  the  possibilities  to  her  father,  to  herself, 
to  the  Development  Company,  and  incidentally  to 
him,  which  lay  hidden  in  the  falls  whose  muffled 
roar  was  like  a  velvet  cushion  upon  which  the  golden 
silence  seemed  to  lean  and  drowse. 

The  girl  was  too  much  engrossed  with  Clark  him 
self  to  make  more  than  a  pretense  of  attention. 
Clark's  wholesome  vigor,  the  alert  poses  into  which 
he  fell  unconsciously  while  he  talked  of  what  so 
profoundly  interested  him,  the  perfection  of  his 
dress,  his  strong  \vhite  hands  full  of  expression,  his 
penetrating  glance  at  once  dominant  and  reserved, 
-»•  41  H- 


THE    WORLD'S    WARRANT 

his  unaccustomed  accent,  the  caressing,  superior  note 
in  his  carefully  modulated  voice,  were  each  a  separate 
revelation  of  manhood  to  the  girl. 

Clark  was,  in  fact,  the  ordinary  well-set-up  young 
Eastern  man,  turned  out  by  the  lathe  of  civilization 
by  thousands  upon  thousands  every  year ;  a  type  as 
familiar  in  the  business  world  from  Canada  to  the 
Gulf  as  the  face  of  a  greenback  note ;  but  the  girl 
was  silently  setting  him  against  the  only  men  she  had 
ever  known,  lads  from  the  adjoining  plantations,  or 
clerks  in  country  stores,  with  a  result  as  natural  as 
it  was  favorable  to  Clark. 

When  the  wonder  of  his  presence  and  the  greater 
wonder,  that  grew  upon  her  as  unconsciously  as  the 
air  of  the  June  day  renewed  her  blood,  that  her 
nearness  was  as  delightful  to  him  as  was  his  to  her, 
would  let  her  listen,  Clark  was  saying  :  — 

"  I  can  understand  perfectly  that  your  father 
might  not  care  to  part  with  land  that  had  been  in 
his  family  for  generations ;  hereditary  associations 
count  with  some  men,"  —  with  an  imperceptible 
shrug, — "but  it  is  merely  the  use  of  this  water,  and, 
er  —  only  such  land  adjacent  as  we  should  need  for 
a  station  and  a  plant  and  that,  you  know,  and  on, 
practically,  his  own  terms.  I  'm  afraid  you  do  not 
understand,  Miss  Jourdan,  what  this  really  means  to 
you.  Let  me  tell  you,  will  you  not?  I  will  not  bore 
you  with  business  details,  but  briefly  this  deal  means 
any  amount  of  money  that  you  like  to  name.  You 
-H-  42  1- 


NATURAL    WAY    OF    LIVING 

could  rebuild  your  grandfather's  house  in  much 
better  shape,  if  you  cared  to  do  so.  You  don't  know 
what  there  is  in  the  world  to  enjoy  !  "  His  long 
glance  into  her  eyes  carried  its  message  of  what 
there  might  be. 

"  But  I  must  see  your  father,"  he  resumed  impa 
tiently,  after  a  minute.  "  Come,  take  me  to  him,  will 
you  not  ?  Let  us  find  him  ;  every  moment  is  pre 
cious  !  " 

He  sprang  up,  waiting  impatiently ;  but  the  girl 
leaned  her  head  back  idly  against  the  stem  of  the 
tree  behind  her,  regarding  Clark  with  great  dream 
ing  eyes,  the  tricksy  corners  of  her  mouth  curling 
upward  in  a  slow  derisive  smile. 

"  Pa  's  at  Brandon  —  as  you  might  er  known  by 
me  setting  here  with  you."  Clark  gave  an  impatient 
shruo;.  "  But  I  '11  reason  with  him  "  — 

o 

"  '  Reason  '  !  "  cried  Clark,  with  amused  exaspera 
tion.  "  The  deuce  !  I  never  dreamed  of  such  folly. 
Any  man  on  earth  would  jump  at  this  " 

She  slowly  shook  her  head.  "  Not  pa.  He  won't 
let  er  thing  be  touched."  She  waved  her  hand 
toward  the  pile  of  debris  —  "Not  er  finger  has  been 
laid  on  that  since  th'  Yankees  went  erway ;  when 
th'  front  of  th'  house  tumbled  down  it  piled  up 
and  kept  the  cannon  balls  from  knocking  down  the 
rooms  at  the  back  ;  they  are  all  buried  except  just 
th'  front  —  but  we  've  lived  there  ever  since." 

A  trace  of  sadness  had  crept  into  her  voice,  and 
-+  43  ^ 


THE    WORLD'S    WARRANT 

Clark's  eyes  rested  pityingly  upon  her.  This  lovely 
creature  forced  to  pass  her  young  life  in  that 
ghastly  pile  of  ruins  —  a  sacrifice  upon  the  altar  of 
hate  !  It  was  too  hideous  for  belief. 

"  What  insane  folly  makes  your  father  keep  this 
pile  of  ruins  here  !  Why  does  he  not  build  another 
home  " 

The  girl's  face  turned  to  his  expressed  grave  sur 
prise  ;  a  shocked  consciousness  of  some  sacred  thing 
made  light  of. 

"  Pie  keeps  it  to  remember  by,"  she  said  simply. 
"  We  remember  by  it  to  hate  th'  Yankees." 

"Heavens,  child!  A  grim  'lest  ye  forget,'  by 
Jove  ! " 

He  rose  and  held  out  his  hand  to  bid  her  good-by. 
"  We  're  partners,  you  know,  and  I  'm  trusting  to 
you  to  win  out  for  us  and  the  Company.  Am  I 
to  come  back  to-morrow  ?  " 

"  Not  here,"  said  she  hurriedly.  "I  '11  —  I  '11  see 
pa  'n'  —  do  you  know  th'  way  to  Chinquepin?" 

"Do  I  ?  "  laughed  Clark.  "  I  have  thought  of 
nothing  by  day  and  dreamed  of  nothing  by  night  but 
Chinquepin  —  until  to-day  !  " 

He  drew  her  crumpled  bonnet  from  his  pocket, 
and  standing  in  front  of  her  put  it  on.  Still  hold 
ing  it  by  its  ruffled  edges,  he  drew  her  imperceptibly 
nearer  to  him.  In  the  shadow  her  soft  eyes  laughed 
into  his,  her  sweet  lips  dared  his  own  as  she  pulled 

lightly  back  against  his  hand  that  drew  her  closer. 

— i-  44  •)— 


"  You  forgot  to  guess  my  name,"  she  reminded 
him. 

"  I  do  not  want  to  know  it,"  Clark  answered,  with 
a  shrug  of  distaste.  "  I  know  I  'd  hate  it.  I  '11  name 
you  for  myself." 

"What?" 

He  whispered  a  word,  his  face  within  the  pent 
house  of  the  bonnet  as  his  lips  touched  hers. 

"  To-morrow,  sure  ?  " 

«  Shore." 


THE    WORLD'S    WARRANT 
CHAPTER   III 

"...    The  taint  of  earth  the  odor  of  the  skies  is  in  it." 

A  FORTNIGHT  passed :  fourteen  long,  perfumed, 
summer  days,  with  the  heart  of  June  beating  visibly 
through  them,  which  Clark  spent,  bored  and  restive 
enough,  lounging  about  the  countryside  in  his  boat 
or  his  trap,  sometimes  alone,  oftener  with  lola  Jour- 
dan,  awaiting  with  what  patience  he  might  the  result 
of  her  mediation  with  her  father,  which  was  to  decide 
the  fate  of  the  Chinquepin  deal. 

In  the  narrow  valley,  walled  in  by  mountains  on 
either  side,  the  wide  slow  current  of  the  Tennessee, 
like  a  pavement  of  mother-of-pearl  for  its  floor,  bor 
dered  on  either  hand  by  endless  acres  of  lush  green 
young  cotton,  life  seethed,  and  the  planters  along 
the  river  smiled  with  the  old  saw  upon  their  lips, 
"  When  cotton  's  in  bloom,  courtin'  's  in  season,"  as 
they  caught  a  glimpse,  far  afield,  of  the  two  figures, 
the  man's  and  the  girl's,  disappearing  among  the 
brown  shades  of  the  pine  woods,  or  the  dim  shadow 
of  the  boat  creeping  among  the  other  shadows  of 
the  canes,  for  coolness  ;  —  Clark  would  have  said 
for  coolness,  but  the  river  men  following  it  with  tol 
erant  eyes  and  a  slow  sapient  smile  assigned  another 
reason,  as  they  shook  their  heads  in  sage  prophecies 
-+•  46  -i— 


THE    ODOR    OF    THE    SKIES 

of  other  cotton  bloomings,  mingled  with  fond  mem 
ories  of, 

"...  lightsom'  days  an'  lang, 
When  hinnied  hopes  about  our  hearts    like  simmer 
blossoms  sprang." 

The  girl  had  entered  into  Clark's  plans  with  a 
comprehension  that  amazed  him,  and  plotted  against 
her  father  with  a  shrewdness  that  would  have  amused 
him,  had  not  the  interest  of  the  affair  absorbed  every 
energy  of  the  young  man's  mind,  or  nearly  every 
energy. 

They  met  every  day  at  a  new  trysting  place, 
arranged  by  lola  with  a  strategic  observance  of  her 
father's  movements  that  she  did  not  attempt  to  con 
ceal  from  Clark.  That  she  frankly  hated  and  feared 
her  father  had  been  apparent  to  Clark  almost  from 
the  first,  and  there  were  moments  when  he  was  un 
easily  conscious  of  the  precariousness  of  the  whole 
affair,  touched  as  he  undoubtedly  was  by  her  fealty 
to  his  interests,  or,  as  they  had  come  to  call  it  in 
their  talks  together,  "  our  interests."  Her  talks 
with  her  father,  faithfully  reported  to  Clark  each 
day,  showed  the  old  man  interested,  at  any  rate ; 
and  from  day  to  day  this  interest  grew  more  keenly 
practical ;  the  questions,  in  fact,  that  the  girl  pro 
pounded  from  her  father  were  exceptionally  shrewd, 
and  Clark  silently  wondered  at  the  old  man's  acu 
men,  knowing  old  Jourdan  to  have  been  a  planter 
rather  than  a  business  man  ;  but  he  answered  them 
-t-  47  -1— 


in  detail,  even  elucidating1  some  of  the  more  impor 
tant  propositions  in  writing,  and  to  all  of  these  lola 
brought  back  a  verbal  and  invariably  encouraging 
reply. 

Of  course  these  erratic  negotiations  were  unspeak 
ably  absurd  to  Clark ;  that  he,  a  business  man  from 
the  East,  where  men  knew  the  value  of  time,  should 
waste  two  weeks  philandering  about  country  lanes, 
holding  secret  conferences  with  a  girl  as  interme 
diary  in  a  business  deal  that  thirty  minutes'  talk  face 
to  face  would  have  sufficed  to  settle,  was  nothing 
short  of  madness ;  but  the  earnestness  with  which 
she  discouraged  any  attempt  upon  his  part  to  meet 
her  father,  her  reiterated  assertions  that  she  could 
and  would  manage  him  if  she  only  had  time,  in 
duced  him  to  persevere,  shutting  his  eyes  to  every 
thing  save  the  main  issue,  —  the  rights  to  the  water 
power.  Besides,  to  Clark's  mind,  a  sane  and  equable 
one,  narrow  perhaps,  but  clear  and  serviceable,  it 
seemed  as  incredible  but  that  old  Jourdan  must  in 
the  end  perceive  his  own  interests  to  be  identical 
with  his  Company's,  as  that  Chinquepin's  flow  should 
be  reversed  and  tower  up.ward  to  the  dark  pines 
above.  The  young  man  was  sure  of  a  few  things ; 
he  was  sure  he  knew  himself,  for  one  thing,  and  he 
thought  he  knew  the  elements  that  go  to  make  up 
success ;  it  was,  so  he  told  himself,  in  the  combina 
tion  of  those  elements  that  men  bungled. 

Clark  was  thinking  of  this  as  he  rowed  up  the 
-i.  48  4- 


THE    ODOR    OF    THE    SKIES 

river  to  the  trysting  place  she  had  appointed  for 
that  night,  his  arms  aching  with  the  strain  he  put 
upon  them  in  his  eagerness  to  be  with  her. 

In  the  pocket  of  his  coat,  lying  upon  the  seat,  was 
a  packet  of  stiff,  clean,  legal  documents  that  caught 
the  moonlight  bravely.  It  was  the  longed-for  con 
cession  to  the  rights  in  Chinquepin.  Clark  eyed  it 
complacently.  It  needed  but  the  old  man's  signa 
ture,  and  to-night  lola  would  take  it  to  him  and 
have  him  affix  it,  and  the  transfer  would  be  com 
plete.  How  well  the  thing  had  gone,  after  all !  How 
cleverly  she  had  managed  her  father  —  the  old  duffer 
must  love  her,  spite  of  Brantley's  animadversions. 
Of  course  he  had  yielded  for  the  girl's  sake  — 
Clark  mused  a  space,  his  face  growing  tender  with 
thought  of  her.  "Why  not?"  he  asked  himself  for 
the  thousandth  time  in  the  past  fortnight.  In  the 
East  she  would  be  called  "  Southern  "  with  a  toler 
ant  smile,  and  much  can  be  forgiven  a  beautiful 
woman  —  and  the  heir  to  all  that  money  !  Besides, 
he  would  be  always  at  her  side  to  teach  her,  guide 
her,  —  do  her  lessons  for  her,  if  need  be.  He  knew 
all  that  she  need  know,  even  how  to  dress  her,  — 
and  there  was  nothing  to  undo  luckily;  she  was 
simply  ignorant,  not  coarse  or  unrefined;  her  in 
stinct  in  many  matters  was  truer  than  his  own, 
and  Clark's  keen  perceptions  had  not  failed  to  take 
note  of  this.  A  year  of  contact  with  the  world 
would  rub  the  little  rusticities  from  her  —  she  was 
-t-  49  •»- 


the  stuff  to  take  on  a  flawless  polish  and  -  -  Why 
not? 

As  he  drew  nearer,  straining  blithely  at  the  oars, 
he  saw  that  she  had  taken  off  her  shoes  and  stock 
ings  and  was  wading  in  a  shallow  runlet  that  es 
caped  from  the  falls,  holding  her  white  dress  high 
in  both  hands.  Her  hair,  worn  as  he  had  taught 
her  to  wear  it  for  him,  hung  in  two  half -loosened 
braids  like  burnished  metal  in  the  moonlight,  and 
as  she  poised  herself  upon  a  stone  and  looked  up  at 
him,  her  eyes  were  like  fringed  flowers,  expressing 
nothing  but  their  own  beauty.  The  girl's  whole 
range  of  expression  lay  in  her  mouth,  in  the  corners 
of  the  lips,  that  curled  upward  in  precisely  the  line 
that  an  artist's  pencil  would  have  followed  had  he 
made  tangible  a  subtle  derision  in  his  sitter's  mind 
that  is  subjective  rather  than  objective.  She  did  not 
speak  as  Clark  stood  above  her  on  the  bank,  but 
appeared  to  concentrate  herself  upon  him  in  a  silent 
effort  to  penetrate  his  mind,  which  gave  her  the 
effect  of  mentally  holding  her  breath. 

"  Have  n't  I  got  pretty  feet  ?  "  was  what  she  said 
when  she  finally  spoke. 

"  Like  a  naiad's,  exactly." 

"Er  what?"  she  spoke  quickly,  with  a  frown  of  dis 
approbation;  and  Clark  amended  hastily,  with  a  smile: 

"  A  goddess.  You  remember  the  one  you  remind 
me  of  when  you  sit  on  the  stone  there  behind  the 
waterfall  with  the  foam  around  you?  " 

-.•  50  -^ 


THE    ODOR    OF    THE    SKIES 

"  Aw  yes  ;  that  one  made  of  foam.  I  wonder  how 
she  stuck  together,  Peter  ?  " 

Clark  did  not  venture  upon  an  explanation,  but 
silently  lifted  her  in  his  arms  and  set  her  upon  the 
bank. 

"  What  's  th'  matter?  "  she  asked,  with  a  slight 
catch  in  her  breath. 

"  Nothing.  I  am  in  great  shape  to-night.  Think 
of  having  it  all  settled  at  last !  " 

"  Don't  begin  erbout  that,"  she  interposed  hastily. 
"Let's  talk  erbout  something  that 's  got  some  sense 
in  it." 

"  You  ?  "  suggested  he,  with  a  grin.  "  Come  to 
the  boat,  I  want  to  go  over  these  with  you  and  show 
you  what  to  do." 

He  drew  her  with  him  to  the  boat  and  went  over 
the  papers  with  her,  explaining,  instructing  for  the 
last  time. 

"  Your  father  is  a  precious  old  humbug,  dearest 
-  with  his  deathless  vendetta.  All  rot,  just  as  I 
told  you  !  Once  we  have  a  cinch  on  these  concessions, 
it  is  going  to  give  me  great  pleasure  to  tell  him  so ; 
but  in  the  meantime  you  are  to  see  that  he  signs 
these  before  a  notary —  Oh,  that  's  all  right!"  —  a 
sudden  blankness  had  overspread  her  face,  —  "I  '11 
row  Weston  up  the  river  to-morrow  and  land  him 
somewhere  about  so  that  he  can  appear  to  drop  in 
accidentally.  Of  all  the  frantic  folly  !  Shall  I  ?  " 

She  had  been  printing  the  impression  of  her  half- 
-H-  51  +- 


THE    WORLD'S    WARRANT 

opened  lips  against  Clark's  cheek  as  they  talked,  and 
he  now  substituted  his  lips,  but  the  mutely  asked 
kiss  was  not  given  ;  she  stared  past  him  into  vacancy ; 
her  face,  rigid  with  thought,  was  perfectly  white  in 
the  moonlight. 

"Did  Mr.  Ike  Weston  fix  them  up?"  she  asked 
dully. 

"  The  attorney  at  Brandon  ?  Yes.  What  is  it, 
Blossom?" 

"Not  nothin'." 

Clark  broke  into  a  tender  laugh.  "  That 's  emphatic 
enough,  at  any  rate  !  If  I  asked  you  how  much  you 
loved  me,  sweetheart,  would  you  say,  'Not  none'?" 

She  was  fitting  her  finger  into  the  cleft  in  Clark's 
chin,  adjusting  it  with  absent  care.  "  Peter,  sup- 
posin'  —  We  air  just  supposing  you  know  ?  " 

"  All  right;  'supposin'," — 

"Pa  air  awful  cross-grained  sometimes;  sup- 
posin',"  —  her  breath  caught  in  her  throat,  but  she 
steadied  her  voice  and  went  on,  — "  supposin'  he 
would  n't  never,  never  sign  th'  concessions,  would 
you —  You  'd  cast  me  off,  would  n't  you?  " 

"  Don't  talk  rot,"  said  Clark,  a  little  coldly.  "  No 
sane  man  would  have  gone  as  far  as  he  has  and  then 
pull  out." 

But  a  shadow  had  fallen  across  his  sanguine  mood 

at  her  words,  and  for  a  moment  the  thought  crossed 

his  mind  to  explain  to  her  something  at  least  of  the 

demands  that  the  sort  of  life  he  lived  made  upon  a 

^-  52  -^ 


THE    ODOR    OF    THE    SKIES 

man  ;  how  in  a  measure  it  reacted  upon,  controlled, 
his  relation  to  her.  The  thought  passed  unspoken, 
but  in  its  passage  through  his  mind  it  had  done  its 
work ;  she  had  felt  it  pass  between  them,  obscuring 
her  sunshine  as  a  passing  cloud  may  dull  the  sun's 
radiant  warmth  for  a  moment.  His  set  face  looking 
past  her,  his  eyes  hard  with  thought  from  which 
she  was  shut  out,  his  troubled  breathing  as  she  lay 
upon  his  breast,  all  told  a  story  replete  with  cruel 
meaning.  And  with  the  passionate  capacity  of  such 
a  nature  for  suffering  —  strung  as  she  was  to  her 
utmost  tension  of  emotional  experience  —  her  heart 
rushed  to  meet  the  desolation  of  the  years  without 
him  with  an  exquisite  poignancy  of  pain  that  trans 
cends  the  pain  of  later  years  by  as  far  as  young 
love's  exultant  throb  outstrips  the  staid  decorum 
of  well-seasoned  experience ;  mistaking,  with  all  of 
youth's  impetuous  loyalty  to  the  present,  the  divine 
aroma  of  the  moment  for  her  imagined  need  of 
him. 

She  choked  back  her  sobs,  some  instinct  warning 
her  that  tears  would  not  avail  her  here. 

"But  supposin',"  she  faltered,  "he  —  he  won't? 
Would  you  —  would  " — 

The  tears  would  come.  Clark  was  silent ;  his  arms 
that  strained  her  closer  interpreting  that  silence. 

An  hour  later  Clark  tied  his  boat  at  Brantley's 
landing.  His  host  came  down  to  meet  him,  combing 

-H    53    4- 


his  thin  beard  with  nervous  fingers  —  an  unfailing 
storm  signal  with  Brantley.  He  walked  beside  Clark 
for  a  dozen  paces  in  silence,  then  cleared  his  throat 
with  raucous  warning. 

"  Jourd  's  ben  here  er  looking  fur  you,"  he  said 
gently.  Clark  raised  his  head  alertly.  "  I  tol'  him," 
Brantley  went  on,  in  his  soft  drawl,  "thet  you'd 
tuk  th'  las'  boat  up  th'  ruver." 

"  Why,  what  the  deuce,  Brantley  !  -  He  came 
about  those  papers,  I  suppose.  I  '11  ride  over  there 
the  first  thing  in  the  morning." 

Prompt,  alert,  business-like,  Clark  was  himself 
again.  The  sudden  cessation  from  uncertainty  was 
as  grateful  as  the  relaxation  of  a  physical  strain. 
Kindly,  remonstrant  humor  was  in  the  glance  old 
Brantley  bent  upon  him  ;  he  gave  a  rusty  chuckle  at 
Clark's  mention  of  the  papers. 

"  Well,  I  '11  be  durned  !  —  'F  that  air  gal  ain't 
got  th'  nerve  er  Julius  CaBsar  !  " 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  "  cried  Clark,  a  cold  breeze 
of  apprehension  contracting  his  nerves  a  moment 
since  basking  in  realization.  Brantley's  gently  sat 
urnine  face  was  one  gleam  of  laughter. 

"  lola !  'F  she  ain't  er  twisted  you  'n'  her  pa  round 
her  finger  like  er  string !  Jourd  ain't  never  hearn 
tell  uv  this  here  Chinquepin  deal  ontel  Ike  Weston 
tol'  him  to-day  erbout  th'  papers  bein'  made  out  fur 
his  signature." 

Brantley's  rasping  chuckle  broke  through  again. 
-»-  54  ^ 


THE    ODOR    OF    THE    SKIES 

Clark's  face  was  hidden  as  he  leaned  upon  the  rail 
ing  looking  with  eyes  hot  with  anger  back  along 
the  current  like  molten  silver  that  had  just  brought 
him  from  her. 

"  So,"  went  on  Brantley,  approaching  his  situa 
tion  with  dramatic  cunning,  —  "  so  Jourd  he  come 
on  here  's  soon  he  'd  got  his  gun,  —  he's  ez  keen  ez 
er  bloodhound  when  he  gets  his  dander  up, — 'n' 
it  tuk  me  cornsiderable  time  to  turn  him  fum  th' 
scent  "  — 

"  Pooh,"  said  Clark  contemptuously.  A  sudden 
thought  struck  him  and  he  made  a  stride  toward  the 
boat.  Old  Brantley  held  him  with  a  shaking,  sinewy 
hand,  gently  and  firmly  as  he  might  have  held  a 
fever  patient. 

"  Naw,  naw,  son,"  he  argued  placably.  "  Yo'  way 
lays  up  th'  ruver  "  — 

Clark  strove  to  shake  off  the  other's  hand  impa 
tiently. 

"  She  '11  be  home  by  this ;  I  cannot  leave  her  alone 
with  that  old  brute  "  — 

"  Shucks,"  said  Brantley  pacifically.  "  Tola  air  a 
match  fur  her  pa  any  day  uv  the  week.  Always 
give  er  woman  er  chanst  to  tell  her  tale  her 
own  way.  You  ain't  got  no  reason  to  be  oneasy 
erbout  Tola,  seein'  she  fooled  you  at  your  own 
game.  Shorely,  shorely  she  was  true  to  you,"  he 
answered  Clark's  restive  movement.  "  'N'  she  'd  er 
made  Jourd  sign  them  papers  by  hook  or  by  crook 
-i-  55  H- 


'f  Weston  had  n't  er  sprung  her  trap  too  soon. 
But  you  lay  low  and  let  her  hedge  her  pa  her  own 
way." 

Clark  dropped  the  rope  over  the  post ;  Brantley's 
homely  logic  had  cooled  the  fever  in  his  pulses.  It 
was  over  - —  the  fool's  game  of  blindman's-buff  he 
had  been  playing  for  three  weeks.  Of  course  Brant- 
ley  was  right.  The  dignified,  the  inevitable  thing 
was  to  leave  quietly  on  the  midnight  boat.  A  week 
hence  the  old  life  would  have  overlaid  this  fortnight 

O 

with  a  stratum  of  new  incidents  ;  a  month  hence  he 
could  not  resurrect  it  if  he  would  —  and  it  would 
tell  well  at  the  club,  pointed  with  a  bit  of  humor  - 
Clark  winced. 

When  he  caught  the  trend  of  old  Brantley's 
rambling  monologue  he  was  saying  :  "  'N'  her  ma, 
Martha  McGuion  as  was,  turned  th'  head  uv  ever' 
man  in  Pike  'n'  Morgan  and  ended  up  with  er  shot 
gun  wedding !  " 

The  moon  rode  low  in  the  sky  ahead  of  Clark 
as  he  drove  rapidly  toward  the  steamboat  landing. 
The  air  was  dank  with  the  cold  dew  of  dawn  and 
heavy  with  perfume.  Somewhere  in  the  tangle  of 
mimosa  at  his  side  a  mocking-bird  sung  low  in  its 
throat  and  a  whippoorwill  wailed  insistently. 

In  a  deep  cut  where  the  hedges  rose  black  against 
the  sky,  the  horse  shied  violently,  almost  dragging 
Clark  from  his  seat,  as  a  white  shape  sprang  into 
-H  56  -»- 


THE    ODOR    OF  "THE    SKIES 

the  road.  Before  the  frightened  horse  had  come 
fairly  to  a  stand  Clark  had  flung  himself  down  to 
meet  her.  Her  thin  clothing  was  saturated  with 
damp,  and  she  shivered  convulsively,  her  bosom 
rising  and  falling  with  a  storm  of  sobs  that  shook 
Clark  as  he  clasped  her.  They  clung  to  each  other 
in  silence,  Clark's  head  bent  down  upon  the  girl's 
wet  face. 

"You  little  liar!  "  he  said  caressingly,  his  voice 
shaking  under  its  attempted  playfulness. 

"  'F  -  -  'f  they  had  er  let  me  be,"  she  broke  out 
hoarsely,  tears  coming  again,  "  I  could  er  " 

"  I  know,  dear,"  he  soothed  her,  "  I  know  what 
your  plan  must  have  been.  Never  mind  it  now.  — 
How  came  you  here  ?  " 

"  I  was  waiting  fur  you,"  wearily. 

She  shivered  again  and  winced  as  he  laid  his 
hand  upon  her  shoulder,  and  with  startled  eyes  and 
a  sick  premonition  of  what  he  would  see,  Clark  drew 
her  where  the  light  from  the  waning*  moon  fell 
upon  her.  She  had  been  cruelly  beaten  ;  the  strokes 
of  the  lash  had  stiffened  in  streaks  of  blood  across 
her  thin  gown.  As  Clark's  eyes  fell  upon  her,  for 
the  first  time  in  all  his  smug,  well-ordered  life  an 
oath  burst  from  his  lips. 

He  looked  back  along  the  dark  road  that  led  to 

what,  in   cruel   mockery  of    its  real  meaning,  she 

called  her  home,  then  downward  to  the   girl  upon 

his  breast;  hung  a  second  longer  in  troubled  thought: 

-H  57  H- 


THE    WORLD'S    WARRANT 

then  tearing  off  his  coat  he  wrapped  her  in  it  and 
lifted  her  to  the  seat,  sprang  up  himself,  and  brought 
the  whip  down  across  the  horse. 

"  We  '11  have  to  drive  like  the  deuce  to  make  the 
boat,"  he  said  quietly. 


NO    FRIENDLY   STAR 


CHAPTER  IV 

"...    Wherever  light  ivinds  blow 
Fixed  by  no  friendly  star." 

Ix  the  second  winter  of  the  Development  Company's 
being,  the  boom  so  long  heralded  with  dauntless 
mendacity  by  Morganton's  financial  chaperones 
began  to  assume  a  tangible  aspect. 

The  stars  in  their  courses  fought  for  the  Devel 
opment  Company  in  those  days,  and,  to  quote  Car- 

lysle,  the  Company  did  "  some  pretty  d shrewd 

hustling"  on  its  own  account. 

"  They  have  seen  our  star  in  the  East,  Kate,"  he 
confided  to  his  wife,  with  cheerful  profanity,  "  and 
have  come  to  dicker  with  us  !  " 

And,  in  fact,  wise  men  began  to  arrive  from  the 
East;  not  upon  camels  to  be  sure,  nor  noticeably 
laden  with  gold,  frankincense,  and  myrrh  ;  but  they 
had  brought  their  own  jovial  personalities,  their 
evening  clothes,  and  a  particularly  long-headed,  if 
somewhat  jocular,  insight  to  bear  upon  the  concerns 
of  the  debutante  investment,  and  for  the  moment 
that  sufficed.  The  main  thing  with  the  Company 
had  been  to  get  them  there,  its  methods  being  equal 
in  sapiency  to  the  old-time  recipe  for  chicken  salad 
which  starts  off,  "First  catch  your  chicken." 
-»•  59  +- 


THE    WORLD'S    WARRANT 

So  the  officers  of  the  Company  smoked  the  calu 
met,  and  the  Eastern  potentates  fared  sumptuously 
every  day  upon  soft-shelled  crab  and  canvas-backed 
duck,  —  which  the  management  of  the  hotel,  with  a 
frank  forecast  of  the  part  a  man's  palate  plays  in 
matters  presumably  settled  by  his  judgment,  ordered 
up  in  an  endless  chain  from  the  coast,  —  and  were 
visibly  impressed  by  the  outlook.  This  outlook,  by 
the  way,  was  duly  enlarged  by  excursions  about  the 
country  in  Carlysle's  motor  car  j  and,  with  Jane's 
charming  figure  by  his  side  and  her  sweet  nonsense 
in  his  delighted  ears,  it  is  small  wonder  that  the  gods 
of  finance  from  Wall  Street's  "  high  Parnassus  " 
looked  upon  the  daughters  of  men  and  found  them 
fair ;  or  that,  interpreted  by  her,  they  carried  back 
East  an  impression  of  a  land  where  falls  of  incalcu 
lable  potential  did  lofty  tumbling  acts  from  peaks 
stuffed  with  ore,  and  endless  coal-fields  which  echoed 
only  to  the  plovers'  call  and  to  the  whistle  of  Bob- 
Bob-White  ;  of  forests  of  hardwood  trees  glowing 
like  camp-fires  through  the  haze  of  Indian  summer; 
and  all  this,  to  cap  the  munificence  of  the  gods, 
set  in  a  climate  where  men  wear  shirt-sleeves  nine 
months  in  the  year. 

But  during  all  this  time  of  fatness  in  the  land 
the  star  of  the  Chinquepin  Power  Company  lingered 
obstinately  below  the  horizon,  invisible  except  to 
the  eyes  of  Carlysle's  indomitable  hope. 

Chinquepin  still  sang  her  siren  song  and  swirled 
-+  60  -.- 


NO    FRIENDLY    STAR 

her  lacy  skirts  all  day  in  the  sunshine,  unwitting  of 
scoops  or  paddles.  Lovers  still  sat  on  "  th'  courtin' 
rock  "  behind  her  fall,  and  Carlysle  still  taxed  the 
vituperative  powers  of  the  English  language  for 
terms  in  which  to  anathematize  old  Jourdan's  thick 
headed  adherence  to  the  altars  of  his  sires,  as  he 
chose  to  interpret  that  worthy's  inflexible  refusal  to 
even  hold  a  conference  with  the  Company's  agents. 

There  was  a  bit  of  the  sleuth  in  Carlysle,  for  all  his 
delightful  mental  suppleness  and  the  easy  Catholi 
cism  which  made  for  him  usually  so  comfortable  a 
place  among  the  creeds  and  customs  of  other  men, 
and  it  held  him  to  the  trail  of  the  Chinquepin  deal 
in  the  face  of  old  Jourdan's  implacable  obduracy, 
with  a  vigilance  that  neither  slumbered  nor  slept, 
and  an  unflagging  keenness  of  resource  that  went 
nearly  the  whole  way  with  Brantley  in  persuading 
him  to  undertake  one  last  attempt  to  open  nego 
tiations. 

"  Does  this  darned  old  moss-back  suppose  he  will 
be  let  to  block  the  progress  of  a  whole  state  ?  "  de 
manded  Carlysle,  in  bitter  chagrin,  as  the  two  sat 
together  in  his  office  upon  the  morning  when  Brant- 
ley  had  rowed  down  the  river  to  communicate  his 
last  failure.  "  This  is  a  public  measure,  I  tell  you, 
Brantley  !  It  will  benefit  the  whole  State  of  Ala 
bama.  And  he  can't  hold  out,  you  know ;  as  soon 
as  we  get  this  bill  through  we  will  force  the  con 
cession." 

-I-     61     4- 


THE    WORLD'S    WARRANT 

"  Colonel  DeResett  's  th'  member  f  um  this  dees- 
trict  ?  "  hazarded  Brantley  mildly. 

"  Yes  ;  John  Calhoun  DeResett." 

Carlysle  glanced  searchingly  at  the  other,  but 
Brantley  wore  his  usual  expression  of  gentle  satire, 
too  universal  to  be  personal  or  to  convey  any  in 
formation,  as  in  the  present  instance. 

"  Jourd  was  in  th'  colonel's  regimint  endurin' 
th'  wah,"  he  dropped  meditatively,  "  'n'  Jourd 
votes  all  his  hands  solid  fur  th'  colonel  ever'  two 
years." 

"  I  know  DeResett,"  said  Carlysle,  with  brief  con- 
clusiveness ;  "  he  works  that  racket  about  the  '  wah' 
in  his  campaigns,  but  when  it  comes  to  the  really 
serious  things  of  life  —  say  Chinquepin  stock  —  his 
head  's  level!  What  is  Jourdan's  real  reason,  Brant 
ley  ?  Drop  all  this  rot  about  the  war,  man,  that 's 
past,  and  put  me  on." 

Brantley's  eyes  steadied  as  they  met  Carlysle's, 
and  for  a  moment  it  seemed  as  if  he  was  about  to 
retaliate,  but  the  impulse  of  courage  faded  into 
caution ;  he  took  refuge  in  a  generality. 

"  Jourd  's  ben  erginst  ever' thing  in  Gawd 
A'mighty's  world  sence  th'  creation  er  man  down  to 
th'  organization  uv  this  here  Development  Com 
pany,"  he  said  evasively. 

"  What  soured  him  on  the  scheme  of  creation  ?  " 
inquired    Carlysle,    hoping   to    find  a  loop-hole  in 
"  Jourd's  "  universal  pessimism. 
-+  62  -t- 


NO    FRIENDLY    STAR 

"Befo'  th'  wah,"  began  Brantley, —  and  Carlysle 
settled  himself  with  amused  resignation  to  the  fate 
he  had  rashly  invited,  —  "befo'  th'  wah  Jourd  was 
er  nigger  overseer  on  Lacey  McGuion's  plantations ; 
'n' "  —  he  proceeded  equably — "in  them  days 
nigger  overseer  wasn't  no  better 'n  dawgs  —  hardly. 
But  Jourd,  for  all  that,  upped  and  run  off  with 
Marthy  McGuion  —  yes,  as  you  say,  '  th'  lady  uv  th' 
manor  ! '  Some  say  't  was  er  military  wedding ;  others 
say  not;  ennyhow,"  -with  easy  tolerance,  —  "he 
ended  by  marry  in'  her.  'N' '  -  this  in  slow  sum 
mary  — "  Marthy  McGuion  would  er  twisted  th' 
grain  er  Julius  Caesar  !  " 

"  Is  that  how  he  got  the  land  ?  "  asked  Carlysle, 
making  a  rapid  forecast  of  the  story,  "  all  the  Mc- 
Guions  killed  in  the  war  " 

"  Exactly." 

"  Well."  Carlysle  resumed  the  genealogy  of  the 
McGuion  family  with  smiling  exasperation.  What, 
he  asked  himself,  had  he  to  gain?  But  he  baited 
Brantley  with  another  question. 

"Marthy  McGuion  died?" 

"  In  time  she  did,"  acquiesced  Brantley,  with  an 
air  of  generously  refraining  from  calling  attention 
to  an  oversight  of  Providence. 

"  And  left  the  land  to  her  husband  ?  " 

"  Onconditionally." 

"  Now,"  mused  Carlysle  alertly,  "  whom  do  you 
suppose  "  — 

-+  63  H- 


THE    WORLD'S    WARRANT 

Brantley  rose  with  a  stiff  creak,  his  cheeks  creased 
like  a  leather  pouch  in  a  smile  of  gentle  derision. 
"I  'm  nigh  on  to  seventy,  son,"  he  said,  with  his 
rusty  chuckle  that  always  suggested  the  need  of 
oil,  "  'n'  I  ain't  got  th'  time  to  be  '  supposin' 
erbout  Jourd !  But  h'sover,  I  'm  sorry  I  did  n't 
marry  Marthy  m'self  when  I  had  th'  chanst, 
seein'  as  your  heart 's  so  sot  on  that  bit  er  fallin' 
water." 

As  the  door  closed  behind  Brantley  Carlysle  flung 
himself  back  in  his  chair,  thinking  out  the  details  of 
the  letter  he  must  perforce  write  quashing  the  last 
hopes  of  the  Chinquepin  Company.  He  was  still 
lost  in  angry  meditation  when  the  click  of  the  door 
opening  without  warning  made  him  wheel  abruptly 
toward  it. 

"  I  'm  very  busy,"  he  began  mechanically,  when 
something  in  the  woman's  air  arrested  him.  He 
decided  swiftly  that  this  was  a  countrywoman  who 
probably  wanted  to  sell  him  land,  but  before  he 
could  speak  she  took  him  up  gravely. 

"  You  was  n't  doing  er  single  thing  but  laying 
back  in  that  chair." 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,"  said  Carlysle,  a  good  deal 
taken  aback ;  "  I  assure  you  I  was  arranging  a  most 
important  matter  in  my  mind.  Do  you  wish  to  speak 
to  me,  Madam?"  He  added  the  last  word  a  little 
uncertainly. 

"  Air  you  Mr.  James  Stanwell  Carlysle  ?  "  No 
-H  64  +- 


NO    FRIENDLY    STAR 

faintest  tinge  of  embarrassment  showed  in  the  color 
less  apathy  of  her  tone. 

"  Yes,"  said  Carlysle. 

"  'N'  does  ever'thing  from  th'  ground  below  to 
th'  sky  erbove  belong  to  you?"  she  pursued,  in  the 
skeptical  tone  of  one  repeating  information  in  which 
she  had  herself  no  sort  of  confidence. 

"  Yes,"  said  Carlysle  again,  this  time  with  a  smile. 
"  Do  you  want  to  buy  something  of  mine  or  sell  me 
something  of  yours  ?  " 

His  visitor  did  not  respond  to  his  smile,  but  she 
came  nearer  to  his  desk  and  leaned  her  arms  with  the 
child  in  them  rather  wearily  upon  it.  The  eyes  with 
which  she  met  his  own  were  perfectly  steady  and, 
except  for  a  slight  tension  in  their  gaze,  normal ;  but 
as  Carlysle's  eyes  traveled  from  them  to  her  mouth, 
one  of  the  mobile,  tremulous,  betraying  mouths,  it 
suddenly  came  to  him  that  the  woman  was  at  her 
last  fence.  The  face  itself  belonged  to  the  stubborn, 
fighting  type  of  faces,  spite  of  its  flexuous  lines  and 
rounded  contours,  now  worn  and  blanched  so  that 
he  seemed  to  see  down  to  the  primitive  rock  of  her 
character,  laid  bare  by  suffering,  so  frank  as  to  be 
almost  nakedly  elemental.  Carlysle  winced  with  pity. 

"  Not  neither,"  she  said  at  last,  in  answer  to  his 
smiling  question  and  in  the  same  tone  of  colorless 
apathy.  "  I  ain't  got  nothin'  to  buy  nothin'  with  ; 
and  I  ain't  got  nothin'  to  sell,  lessen  you  'd  take  the 
baby?" 

-t-    65    H— 


THE    WORLD'S    WARRANT 

Carlysle  glanced  quickly  at  her  as  he  recovered 
his  poise,  somewhat  shaken  under  the  many-piled 
negations  of  her  speech,  but  she  was  perfectly 
grave ;  there  was  even  a  thread  of  dignity,  patheti 
cally  attenuated,  in  her  confession,  as  if  in  some  sort 
of  way  her  poverty  clothed  her  with  a  pathetic  state. 
To  Carlysle's  amazement  she  made  him  an  offer  of 
the  child,  timid  and  half  withdrawn,  but  unmistak- 
edly  serious  in  intention. 

"  Sit  down,"  said  he  gently,  taking  the  child  from 
her.  "  Why  do  you  wish  to  give  me  your  child  ?  " 

She  did  not  answer  in  words,  but  her  eyes  met  his 
in  reproachful  protest  so  startling  in  its  frank  dis 
closure  that  a  pang  of  vicarious  guilt  stung  Carlysle  ; 
he  felt  in  some  inexplicable  way  that  his  sex  made 
him  an  accomplice  in  her  fall.  It  was  but  the  instan 
taneous  throb  with  which  the  molecule  recognizes 
its  kinship  to  the  mass  of  human  misery  and  crime 
and  guilt,  and  Carlysle  in  that  instant  of  poignant 
comprehension  saw  himself  a  boy  again  with  the 
ruthless  barbarism  of  boyhood  turning  a  burning 
glass  upon  a  butterfly,  pretty  much  as  Nature  had 
focused  her  inexorable  purpose  upon  this  young 
creature. 

"  You  have  n't  told  me  what  I  can  do  for  you  ?  " 
he  suggested,  smiling  at  the  child  upon  his  knee. 

"  I  want  you  to  loan  me  er  box  car,"  she  replied, 
without  hesitation.  Carlysle  considered  her  in  sur 
prised  silence  for  a  moment. 

-.-  66  +- 


NO    FRIENDLY    STAR 

"What  to  do  with?" 

"  To  live  iu,  uv  course."  The  explanation  was  dis 
tinctly  tart. 

"  You  mean  those  empty  cars  on  that  bit  of  con 
struction  track  " 

«  Yes." 

Carlysle  hesitated,  running  over  in  his  mind  any 
possible  refuge  for  her  in  the  place ;  there  was  none 
he  knew.  And  yet  this  child  —  she  seemed  hardly 
more  —  alone,  in  a  box  car  in  such  a  place.  The 
thought  was  preposterous ! 

"  Where  have  you  come  from  here  ? "  he  tem 
porized. 

"  She-car-go,"  she  drawled  sweetly  and  so  unex 
pectedly  that  Carlysle's  glance  took  on  a  tinge  of 
keenness  as  he  made  a  guarded  inventory  of  her. 
She  wore  a  dark  gown  that,  though  worn  and  travel- 
stained,  had  been  distinctly  smart  in  its  day,  and  still 
bore  the  unmistakable  evidences  of  its  high  estate 
in  its  well-cut  lines  and  good  texture.  But  the 
girl  herself  was  worn  and  weary  and  slender  to  the 
point  of  emaciation,  though  her  face  retained  its 
childish  contours ;  there  was  a  dimple  in  her  chin 
and  shadows,  that  would  be  dimples  when  she 
smiled,  in  either  cheek,  though  the  cheeks  were 
themselves  pallid  from  want.  She  answered  indif 
ferently  to  his  question  that  her  name  was  Callie 
Larkin. 

"  Of  course  you  can  have  the  car ;  I  will  send  out 
-*  67  H- 


and  have  it  shunted  closer  to  these  shanties  near 
the  tracks;  that  will  be  safer  for  you." 

Carlysle  had  been  scribbling  a  line  as  he  talked, 
and  now  held  it  toward  her  with  a  note  from  his 
purse. 

"  Take  this  to  the  Company's  supply  store  and 
they  will  let  you  have  what  you  want." 

She  took  the  paper,  but  flushed  and  shrank  from 
the  money  that  he  pressed  upon  her. 

"  It  is  all  right  for  me  to  help  you  a  bit,"  he  ex 
plained.  "  This  is  my  town,  you  remember  ?  And 
while  you  are  here  you  are  my  guest." 

"  Air  you  th'  mayor  ?  "  she  inquired,  with  a  touch 
of  awe  ;  and  when  Carlysle  told  her  with  a  smile  that 
he  was,  she  took  the  money  contentedly,  and  with  a 
word  of  thanks  went  her  way. 

It  was  thus  that  Callie  Larkin  had  come  into 
the  lives  of  Carlysle  and  his  little  circle.  He  had 
sketched  her  in  a  dozen  capable  sentences  to  his 
wife  and  Miss  Caruth,  and  they  had  later  sought  her 
out  in  her  tiny  home  upon  the  unused  track.  She 
had  settled  into  it,  never  leaving  it,  and  shrinking 
from  her  neighbors  with  a  persistence  that  soon  rid 
her  of  them,  and  as  the  weeks  passed  she  showed 
no  desire  to  leave  it.  Carlysle's  order  upon  the 
Company's  store  supplied  her  simple  needs.  She 
made  no  friends  nor  even  acquaintances;  to  all 
save  Carlysle  and  his  wife  she  was  frankly  repellent, 
and  she  clung  to  them  as  unobtrusively  as  a  bit  of 

-H-  68  H- 


thistledown  might  cling  to  a  traveler's  garment ; 
she  made  no  appeal,  asserted  no  claim,  but  simply 
and  quite  frankly  attached  herself  to  them,  though 
she  did  not  confide  in  them  nor  did  they  question 
her. 

To  Carlysle  life  displayed  itself  episodically ;  he 
snatched  its  meaning  from  it  with  a  glance  as  he 
did  the  morning  papers,  giving  himself  no  concern 
with  yesterday's  stale  news  or  to-morrow's  unripe 
happenings.  And  as  the  summer  wore  on  it  was  grad 
ually  borne  in  upon  him  and  his  wife  that  the  lethargy 
that  had  locked  the  girl's  nature  like  a  frost-bound 
stream  had  broken ;  she  had  shed  her  past  as  a  flower 
might  shed  its  leaves,  and  trembled  upon  the  verge 
of  a  new  phase.  That  she  had  accepted  them  as  an 
equivalent  for  all  that  life  had  doubtless  held  for  her 
before  the  wrench  came  that  had  jarred  her  from 
her  little  niche  was  also  apparent  to  them,  and  the 
knowledge  had  touched  them,  disconcerted  them, 
and  amused  them  in  about  equal  parts,  though  they 
had  not  hesitated  to  assume  the  responsibility  that 
she  gently,  almost  timidly,  thrust  upon  them.  Her 
theory  of  life  had  been  contained  in  the  reply  that 
she  made  to  Carlysle's  inquiry  as  to  what  she  could 
do,  or  would  prefer  to  do,  to  earn  a  support  for  her 
self  and  her  child.  She  had  turned  great,  startled 
eyes  upon  him  as  she  murmured, — 

"  Folkses  has  always  tuk  ker  uv  me,  'n'  —  'n'  I 
ken  take  ker  uv  th'  baby." 

-+  69  -f- 


THE    WORLD'S    WARRANT 

After  that  Carlysle  and  his  wife  had  tacitly  as 
sumed  the  part  of  "th'  folkses."  She  accepted  what 
they  did  for  her  with  a  detached  graciousness,  that 
just  escaped  being  inconsequence,  but  did  escape 
it  by  a  certain  grace  of  manner  which  assumed  her 
obligation  to  the  Carlysles  to  be  an  accident  that 
might  quite  as  well  have  been  the  other  way,  which 
graciousness  was  unconsciously  the  acme  of  good 
taste,  since  the  stress  of  circumstances  really  left  her 
no  choice  for  the  moment  but  to  be  their  debtor. 
Carlysle  frankly  admired  what  he  called  her  "  grit," 
and  his  wife  and  Miss  Caruth  were  interested  though 
more  conservatively.  They  had  found  early  in  their 
acquaintance  with  her  that  it  was  impossible  to  accept 
Callie  at  any  valuation  other  than  her  own  ;  light  as 
she  seemed  by  nature,  she  maintained  a  rigid  reti 
cence  in  regard  to  her  past  that  never  relaxed. 
Experience  had  laid  a  rough  hand  upon  her,  but 
she  had  wrested  herself  free,  courageously  or  cal 
lously  Carlysle  and  his  wife  in  their  many  discus 
sions  had  never  yet  been  able  to  decide  which ;  life 
had  striven  to  brand  its  most  tragic  superscription 
upon  her,  but  the  die  had  seemingly  left  no  stamp. 

The  question  was  —  and  it  grew  more  insistent 
with  every  week  that  passed  —  what  to  do  with  her  ? 
She  had  neither  a  past  nor  a  future,  and  her  hold 
upon  the  present  was  so  casual  a  one  that  she  might 
almost  be  said  to.  have  no  present  either.  It  was  in 
these  somewhat  perplexing  premises  that  Carlysle 

-h  70  H- 


NO    FRIENDLY    STAR 

and  the  two  women  had  set  themselves  to  play  the 
part  of  destiny  and  assist  fate  to  solve  the  problem, 
by  providing  her  with  a  future  while  holding1  fast 
to  the  tentative  claim  they  had  upon  her,  not  dar 
ing  to  risk  her  life  in  her  own  hands  until  some 
sort  of  life  line  attached  her  to  the  shore  of  the 
problematical  future  they  had  mapped  out  for  her. 

To  Carlysle's  dismay  he  perceived  that  his  two 
companions,  and  in  a  measure  Callie  herself,  saw 
her  past  as  a  nagging  repetend  in  the  solution  of 
her  future,  repeating  itself  to  infinity ;  never  to  be 
completely  solved  and  never  to  be  cut  off  or  approxi 
mated  or  in  any  way  got  rid  of,  but  re-lived  in  the 
background  of  every  minute  of  her  future. 

Then  all  in  a  moment,  as  it  were,  had  come  the 
inspiration.  A  man — a  perfect  stranger  to  Carlysle 
-  in  the  clutch  of  that  instinct  of  confidence  that 
goes  so  far  along  the  way  to  make  us  believe  in  the 
universal  brotherhood  of  man,  had  unfolded  to  him 
the  story  of  his  life  from  the  first  blind  cast  of  the 
dice  down  to  his  wife's  good-by  kiss  when  he  had 
left  her  to  come  upon  the  journey  that  ended  in  his 
meeting  with  Carlysle  and  his  confidence  to  him. 
How,  flung  back  upon  himself  by  a  woman,  dis 
trusting  himself,  the  whole  world,  yet  determined 
to  have  his  share  of  plain  human  happiness  at 
least,  he  had  staked  his  all  upon  blind  chance  and 
won  ! 

The  idea  grew  upon  Carlysle  ;  here  was  a  solution, 
-+  71  •«- 


THE    WORLD'S    WARRANT 

a  logical,  reasonable  solution  of  the  girl's  problem 
of  life.  She  had  bungled  the  first  part  of  the  prob 
lem.  What  was  there  to  do  but  wipe  the  slate  clean 
and  begin  anew  ?  And  this  time  he  would  state  the 
terms  ;  and  what  is  a  man's  judgment  worth  if,  know 
ing  the  world  as  he  knew  it,  he  could  not  do  as  simple 
a  piece  of  business  as  this  promised  to  be  ?  To  select 
a  husband  for  this  girl  was  but  a  simple  exercise  of 
the  same  faculties  by  which  he  selected  his  own  busi 
ness  partners  and  associates  —  not  requiring  half  so 
much  keenness  and  acumen  as  to  be  president  of 
the  Development  Company  ! 


DISCOVER    ALL    HER    SOUL 


CHAPTER  V 

"  She  should  never  have  looked  at  me  if  she  meant  I  should 

not  love  her  ! 
There  are,  plenty  —  men  you  call  such  I  suppose  —  she  may 

discover 
All  her  soul  to  if  she  pleases,  and  yet  leave  much  as  she  found 

them  : 
But  I'm  not  so  ;  and  she  knew  it  when  she  fixed  me  glancing 

round  them." 

COOLER  weather  brought  back  the  scattered  mem 
bers  of  the  little  colony  of  Eastern  folk  from  their 
old-time  haunts,  and  Mrs.  Carlysle  was  in  a  state  of 
ecstatic,  sighing  contentment  over  the  social  pros 
pects  for  the  winter.  She  and  Miss  Caruth  stopped 
at  Carlysle's  offices  to  fetch  him  home  to  lunch  upon 
a  glorious  day  in  October  when  the  golden  air  was 
like  iced  Tokay,  and  found  him  in  a  mood  which 
they  privately  dubbed  "  gentle  dalliance."  They  were 
themselves  in  radiant  spirits,  and  in  visiting  dress, 
and  were,  as  they  hastened  to  inform  him,  returning 
from  rounding  up  the  inhabitants. 

"  We  've  taken  the  census,  Jim,  and  everybody 
has  come  back,  and  nearly  everybody  has  brought 
somebody  else  with  them.  The  Marches  and  the  Van 
Coots  both  have  visiting  girls, and  —  oh,  that  unspeak 
able  widow  from  the  farm  across  the  river  " 

-H     73     4- 


THE    WORLD'S    WARRANT 

"  Say  plantation,  dear  ;  they  like  it  better." 

"  —  Plantation,  is  coming  back,  gowns  and  all ! 
She  told  Jim  that  she  put  six  bales  of  cotton  into 
every  gown  !  " 

"  She  told  me  that  in  the  middle  of  a  transaction 
in  real  estate  in  which  she  did  me  outrageously !  " 
observed  Carlysle. 

"  She  's  a  gibbering  idiot,  you  know,  Jane,"  sup 
plemented  his  wife,  with  a  smile  at  Carlysle. 

"  —  Until  it  comes  to  real  estate,  I  grant  you ;  but 
the  shrewdest  broker  I  ever  did  business  with  is  not 
a  patch  upon  her  when  it  comes  to  land !  " 

"  The  only  thing  I  can  tolerate  about  her  is  her 
sex,"  summed  up  Mrs.  Carlysle  serenely,  "  and  that 
only  because  we  are  so  short  of  women  in  the  dances. 
But  we  will  have  enough  this  winter  without  putting 
in  any  men  —  so  poky  !  " 

"  Things  are  looking  well  for  the  Company  too," 
said  Carlysle  cheerily.  "Graeham  has  given  things 
a  stir  "  - 

"  Not  another  man,  Jim  !  "  moaned  his  wife,  in 
tragic  despair,  "  just  when  I  had  succeeded  in  get 
ting  enough  women  for  a  decent  dance.  If  new 
men  are  coming  in  all  the  time,  Jim,  I  don't  see  how 
I  am  to  do  !  " 

"  Graeham  's  been  here  some  time ;  you  need  n't 

count  him  in  —  he  's  not  a  society  man  ;  at  least  he 

said,"  went  on  Carlysle,  flattered  rather  than  warned 

by  the  quickened  interest  of  his  two  companions, 

•H.  74  4- 


DISCOVER    ALL    HER    SOUL 

"  that  women  were  n't  in  it  for  him  ;  he  's  here  for 
business,  and  he  doesn't  care  to  be  hampered  "  — 

"  Had  not  some  one  better  tell  Mr.  Graeham  that 
there  are  just  exactly  twenty-five  men  in  Morganton 
to  every  woman  ?  "  interposed  Miss  Caruth  suavely. 

"  Graeham  knows  the  ratio  of  population,  you 
may  depend,"  grinned  Carlysle ;  "  he  's  an  uncom 
monly  shrewd  fellow.  He  probably  does  n't  care  for 
society  where  men  are  ninety-six  points  off.  He  's 
not  in  the  least  your  sort,  girls,"  he  added  carelessly, 
"  though  very  much  my  sort.  He  has  just  what  the 
Company  needs,  —  cash  and  the  grit  to  let  it  go.  I  '11 
show  him  to  you  in  the  dining-room." 

And  as  they  took  their  seats  he  indicated  the 
table  next  but  one  to  their  own,  and  Jane  glanced 
carelessly  across.  The  man  sat  with  his  face  toward 
their  table  in  a  pose  at  once  alert  and  absent,  lean 
ing  slightly  forward  in  his  seat,  and  he  met  Jane's 
careless  glance  with  an  uncompromising  directness 
that  had  the  impact  almost  of  a  blow.  Graeham's 
eyes  were  deeply  set  and  wide  apart,  under  a  brow 
whose  frowning  earnestness  was  well  in  character 
with  his  glance,  that  was  as  straight  and  level  as 
though  sighting  along  a  rifle  barrel,  and,  at  the 
moment  it  met  Miss  Caruth's,  full  of  an  enigmatical 
challenge  not  inconceivable  as  a  component  of  a 
glance  reinforced  by  the  coercive  argument  of  a  rifle 
barrel  behind  it,  but  distinctly  disconcerting  when 
directed  point-blank  into  a  pair  of  lovely  shrinking 
— i-  75  •»- 


eyes,  across  a  dining  table,  and  that  from  a  perfect 
stranger.  It  was  an  inexplicable  glance,  and  though 
it  lasted  but  while  a  man  might  draw  his  breath  one 
time,  Jane  was  conscious  in  that  instant  that  she 
had  been  weighed  by  some  implacable  standard  of 
the  man's  'own,  and  found  wanting,  notwithstand 
ing  that  its  keen  summary  was  tempered  by  a  trace 
of  ironical  admiration.  It  was  frankly  antagonistic 
also,  with  the  antagonism  of  a  man  who  knows  his 
quarrel  just,  and  Miss  Caruth  had  a  nettled  con 
sciousness  that  the  shock  of  it  had  sent  the  blood  to 
her  cheek.  Her  eyes,  changing  their  focus  without 
turning  from  him,  passed  easily  over  him,  beyond 
him,  and  dropped  back  to  her  plate  in  masterly 
retreat.  She  turned  to  Peter  Clark,  who  sat  at  her 
side,  with  a  careless  question. 

"  What  is  Mr.  Graeham  doing  here  ?  " 

A  laughing  retort  sprang  to  the  lips  of  both 
men  simultaneously;  Clark  nodded  precedence  to 
Carlysle. 

"  Doing  Peter !  "  exclaimed  he,  in  a  guarded  tone 
of  amusement,  mitigated  by  a  pleasant  glance  at 
Clark.  "  Did  you  up  in  several  deals,  did  n't  he, 
Peter?" 

"  Something  like  it,"  Clark  acquiesced. 

"  Machiavelli  worsted  ! "  Jane's  eyes  laughed,  but 
Clark  at  her  side  caught  a  gleam  of  sympathy.  "  He 
does  not  look  in  the  least  diplomatic,"  she  added 
carelessly. 

-i-  76  •*- 


DISCOVER    ALL    HER    SOUL 

"  Oh  —  diplomatic ! "  Clark's  imperceptible  shrug 
italicized  his  tone.  "  Diplomacy  was  n't  in  this;  it  was 
brutal  cash  and  unscrupulous  aggressiveness.  Not," 
he  went  on  pleasantly,  "  not  but  what  Graeham  has 
a  sort  of  rough-and-tumble  cleverness.  I  believe  " 
—  with  well-bred  acrimony — "it  is  called  'hustling' 
among  his  sort  of  financiers." 

"What  sort  is  his  sort,  Peter?"  inquired  Mrs. 
Carlysle  anxiously,  adding  explicatively,  "  If  Jim 
were  not  president  I  should  not  bother,  but  I  really 
feel  that  I  should  know  the  different  brands  of 
aggressiveness,  at  least." 

"  What  I  meant,"  began  Clark,  laughing  and 
floundering  under  Carlysle's  delighted  grin,  "  is 
that  —  er —  Really,  you  know,  Mrs.  Carlysle,  I 
meant  to  be  ironical.  The  point  is  that  Western 
men  as  a  rule  do  not  finesse  in  business ;  they  go 
right  at  a  thing  with  a  knock-down  directness  that 
is  somewhat  er  —  disconcerting." 

Carlysle  gave  him  a  noiseless  round  of  applause. 
"  '  Disconcerting '  is  good,  Peter  !  What  Graeham 
really  did,  girls,  was  to  put  Clark  in  his  pocket  and 
walk  off  with  him." 

Both  women  made  a  soft,  inarticulate  sound  of 
commiseration. 

"Poor,  poor  Peter!"  sighed  Mrs.  Carlysle,  look 
ing  at  the  young  man  as  a  mother  might  look  at 
her  boy's  bruised  knee.  "  How  nobly  he  bears  it ! 
How  can  you  keep  from  flinging  something  at  him, 

— i-  77  -*— 


THE    WORLD'S    WARRANT 

Peter?  Ogre!  sitting  there  with  poor  Peter  in  his 
pocket ! " 

"  But  it  is  remarkable,  Carlysle,"  Clark  resumed, 
after  a  grateful  glance  at  his  champion,  "  the  differ 
ence  in  Eastern  financiering  and  the  method  of  men 
from  —  er,  from  these  new  places." 

"What  'new  place'  is  Mr.  Graeham  from?"  in 
quired  Miss  Caruth.  "  Or  do  we  regard  him  as  con- 
tinentally  new  ? "  There  was  a  delicate  tang  of 
malice  in  her  tone  that  was  as  balm  to  Clark's  hid 
den  rancor. 

"  Mexico,"  he  said  in  a  soft  aside;  soft  simply  for 
the  pleasure  of  the  pretended  confidence  between 
them. 

"  Mexico  new  !  "  cried  Mrs.  Carlysle.  "  Why, 
when  I  went  to  school  "  — 

"  They  don't  have  time  to  be  subtle  in  the  West," 
Carlysle  cut  across  his  wife's  geographical  reminis 
cences,  with  a  smile.  "  There  's  such  a  deuced  lot  to 
do  out  there.  With  us  conditions  already  exist.  — 
How  did  you  say  Graeham  made  his  pile  ?  " 

"  Hydro-electrical  engineering.  He  is  president 
of  the  Necaxa  Company  out  there,  or  was  at  one 
time." 

" l  Hydro  —  ! '  "  gasped  Mrs.  Carlysle,  in  shocked 
amazement.  "  Come,  Jane !  If  Peter  and  Jim  are 
going  to  use  language  of  this  sort  in  your  pre 
sence  —  it  does  n't  matter  about  me;  I  'm  married  ! 
but  "  — a  delicious  laugh  drew  Graeharn's  eyes,  in 
-i-  78  -^ 


DISCOVER    ALL    HER    SOUL 

spite  of  himself,  for  a  moment  to  the  table  —  "I 
think  you  might  respect  Jane's  innocence  and  my — 
curiosity!" 

"  I  will  tell  you  anything  on  earth  that  I  know  or 
am  capable  of  inventing,  Mrs.  Carlysle,"  promised 
Clark  recklessly.  "  Just  let  me  know  !  " 

"How  --  did  — you  --  say  —  Mr.  Graeham  - 
made  —  his  —  pile  ?  "  spacing  the  words  with  per 
emptory  little  nods. 

"  Oh,  that  ?  Very  simply.  He  whistled  a  river 
across  a  mountain  and  made  it  jump  over,  plunk  ! 
into  a  power  plant,"  concluded  Clark,  and  gave  his 
attention  to  his  neglected  luncheon. 

"  Well,  Peter  ?  '  Plunk  into  a  power  plant.' 
What  then?" 

"  He  lighted  up  a  bunch  of  towns  with  it." 

"  With  a  river !  "  Mrs.  Carlysle's  voice  ran  the 
scale  of  incredulity  and  ended  with  a  gasp  of  re 
proach.  "  Peter  !  " 

Graeham,  lingering  over  his  coffee,  suppressed  a 
smile  as  he  stole  a  glance  across  to  the  other  table 
whose  occupants,  in  the  interest  of  the  moment,  had 
let  their  voices  rise  above  the  note  of  the  dining- 
room. 

"It's  no  harm  listening,"  thought  Graeham; 
"  they  seem  not  to  care  if  I  am  included  in  their 
confidences !  How  deuced  knowing  Clark  is,  by 
the  way,  and  how  pretty  the  women  are  !  The  one 
in  brown  velvet,  she  's  furious  with  me ;  and  I  was 

-H    79    4- 


THE    WORLD'S    WARRANT 

a  bit  of  a  brute.  Pretty?  No ;  pretty  is  not  her 
\vord.  What  is  it  ?  She 's  more  like  a  delicate 
steel  coil  with  a  current  through  it  than  anything 
else." 

"  Self-made  man,  I  suppose  ?  "  said  Carlysle,  at 
the  other  table,  his  eyes,  full  of  interest,  upon  Clark's 
face,  unconscious  of  Graeham  as  he  rose,  his  face 
stiffening,  to  pass  out  of  the  room ;  but  he  could 
not  escape  Clark's  reply  nor  what  followed. 

"That!"  Clark's  uplifted  brows  annotated  his 
brief  reply.  "  It  's  all  over  him." 

"The  regular  picture-paper  Westerner,"  laughed 
Miss  Caruth  lightly,  daintily  peeling  a  peach  with 
down-drooped  eyelashes,  "  with  an  unthinkable  tie ; 
labeled,  i  Begun  life  as  office  boy  at  thirty  cents  a 
week!'" 

The  little  dart,  barbed  by  girlish  malice,  flew 
straight  to  its  mark.  Graeham's  head  lifted  in  an 
involuntary  impulse  of  anger,  though  his  lips  quiv 
ered  with  amusement.  How  well  she  had  scored,  and 
how  promptly.  He  let  his  eyes  rest  a  moment  on 
the  laughing  lips  that  uttered  the  gibe,  and  though 
Miss  Caruth  had  not  raised  her  eyes  from  her  fingers, 
busied  with  the  peach,  she  knew  that  her  shaft  had 
found  its  mark,  and  the  smile  that  she  felt,  rather 
than  saw,  told  her  that  it  rankled. 

Miss  Caruth  was  very  thoroughly  enjoying  her 
winter  "in  the  country,"  as  she  termed  the  enlight- 

-t-80  +- 


DISCOVER    ALL    HER    SOUL 

ened  and  progressive  municipality  of  Morganton,  for 
though  society  in  any  sense  to  which  she  had  been 
accustomed  was  impossible,  Morganton  had  a  charm 
very  distinctly  its  own.  The  atmosphere  of  the  little 
colony  was  thoroughly  virile  and  stimulating,  as 
social  atmosphere  always  is  where  the  realities  of  life 
very  closely  underlie  social  intercourse  between  men 
and  women.  Women  shared  the  business  interests 
of  their  men  friends,  for  the  reason  that  little  else 
was  going  forward  in  the  embryonic  town,  and  unde 
niably  it  imparts  a  decided  fillip  to  a  woman's  society 
if  her  usual  charm  is  supplemented  by  a  knowledge 
of  the  subject  most  vitally  interesting  to  the  man.  A 
woman's  point  of  view  in  business  is  nearly  always 
piquantly  unexpected  to  a  man,  and  very  refreshing 
after  the  sordid  grind  of  the  real  thing;  nor  does 
the  wise  business  man  disdain  the  side  lights  cast  by 
her  instantaneous  perceptions  of  men  and  motives 
—  and  her  partisanship  is  so  delightfully  illogical 
and  illogically  winning  !  The  Carlysles  were  the 
pivot  about  which  revolved  a  gay  little  circle  of 
vigorous-minded,  breezy-natured  people,  alive  to 
their  fingers'  ends  with  the  joy  of  living  in  this 
comfortable,  commonplace  old  world,  and  with  brains 
teeming  with  plans  to  secure  the  wherewithal  for 
further  and  keener  enjoyment  of  the  good  things 
to  be  found  in  it.  Their  creed  was  a  delightfully 
simple  one :  Live  and  work  and  get  as  much  fun  as 
possible  out  of  both. 

•H.  81  -t- 


THE    WORLD'S    WARRANT 

The  getting  of  money  was,  frankly,  Morganton's 
raison  d'etre,  but  there  was  none  of  the  vicious, 
brutal  lust  for  mere  raw  accumulation  that  distin 
guishes  the  Western  mining  towns  from  the  "boom" 
towns  of  the  South  that  have  arisen  upon  the  ashes 
of  as  suave  a  civilization  as  the  world  has  ever  known. 
Morgauton  was,  in  fact,  the  materialization  of  a 
well-considered  financial  scheme,  and  the  men  hand 
ling  it  were  financiers,  not  red-shirted  miners  grub 
bing  for  pay-gravel.  The  men  at  Morganton  had 
come  to  stay ;  they  had  brought  their  altars  and 
their  gods  and  their  wives,  their  creeds  and  their 
cynicisms  and  their  business  methods ;  they  did  not 
waste  time  with  sowing  the  seeds  of  Eastern  civiliza 
tion;  they  had  brought  the  full-grown  plant  along, 
wrapped  in  wet  moss,  to  be  transplanted  in  a  soil  rank 
with  traditions  of  hate  for  them  and  all  they  stood 
for. 

The  little  town  was  precisely  like  a  slice  of  an 
Eastern  city  set  down  bodily  amid  the  cotton-fields 
of  Alabama,  a  core  of  resistless  energy  amid  the 
enervation  and  decay  of  rural  life  of  the  South. 

It  is  very  certain  that  the  unrestrained  freedom 
of  the  out-of-doors  life  contributed  largely  to  Miss 
Caruth's  enjoyment  of  her  winter  in  Alabama,  for 
nature  was  very  neighborly  with  man  at  Morganton 
in  those  days,  and  Jane  was  emphatically  an  open- 
air  young  woman  and  full  of  the  reposeful  charm 
of  the  life  that  flows  around  our  incompleteness, 
-i-  82  H- 


DISCOVER    ALL    HER    SOUL 

There  were  times  when  the  deep  core  of  feeling  hid 
den  beneath  the  girl's  reserve  actually  ached  for  the 
bland  touch  of  nature's  comforting  abstractions. 

Miss  Caruth's  serene  poise  had  been  strangely 
shaken  by  her  inexplicable  encounter  with  Graeham, 
for  his  insistent  personality  had  had  the  force  almost 
of  an  encounter,  and  dislike,  antagonism  in  the  eyes 
of  a  perfect  stranger,  makes  quite  as  strong  an  appeal 
to  interest  and  curiosity  as  an  involuntary  attrac 
tion  ;  and  Miss  Caruth  was  restlessly  conscious,  in  the 
days  that  followed  her  odd  subjective  interview  with 
Graeham  across  the  dinner  table,  that  she  had  swung 
ever  so  little,  it  might  be,  from  her  emotional  equi 
librium — pretty  much  as  a  compass  might  veer  in  the 
neighborhood  of  a  magnet. 

She  resented  the  impingement  of  Graeham's  per 
sonality  upon  her  own  indignantly ;  shrank  from 
it  as  an  intrusion,  haughtily  insulated  herself  in  an 
armor  of  freezing  indifference.  But  to  no  purpose  ; 
her  armor  proved  itself  pervious,  sprang  leaks,  acted 
provokingly  like  a  conductor  in  fact,  so  that  the 
antagonism  and  dumb  resistance  that  hung  like  an 
electrified  atmosphere  about  Graeham  charged  her 
mind,  spite  of  her  coolly  unattached  attitude,  with 
a  hostile  interest  in  him  which  kept  her  restlessly 
sensitive  to  his  presence  in  the  hotel.  Her  ear  took 
cognizance  of  his  step  in  the  corridor,  strive  as  she 
would  to  snub  her  palpitating  consciousness  into 
oblivion ;  she  caught  herself  listening  for  his  voice, 
-H-  83  +- 


his  laugh,  amid  the  blur  of  men's  voices  in  the  hotel 
lobby,  and  recognizing  it  with  an  irrational  throb  of 
what  she  called  "  dislike." 

Graeham's  rooms  were  opposite  Carlysle's  suite, 
and  naturally  enough  there  were  encounters  between 
the  inmates  in  the  corridors,  marked  always  upon 
Jane's  part  by  an  imperceptibly  tilted  chin  and  lashes 
poised  at  an  angle  nicely  calculated  to  exclude  a 
man's  figure  and  impress  upon  him  the  withering 
conviction  that  higher  than  six  inches  or  so  of 
trousers  he  had  no  corporeal  existence.  But  Grae- 
ham,  upon  his  part,  never  failed  to  vigorously  assert 
his  right  to  an  entity  by  a  quick  steady  glance  that 
grasped  the  girl  like  a  hand  and  left  her  breathless 
and  indignant  as  from  an  actual  contact. 

Graeham's  voice  and  glance  possessed  the  quality 
of  projecting  his  personality  thus  to  quite  a  remark 
able  degree,  and  after  a  fortnight  of  this  silent  in 
terchange  of  hostility  Miss  Caruth  discovered  to  her 
dismay  that  Graeham  had  established  not  only  his 
right  to  an  entity  but  to  a  place  in  her  emotional 
consciousness  as  well. 

Then  Miss  Caruth  had  rebelled  in  earnest,  and 
with  flushed  cheeks  and  straightened  lip  had  said 
things  to  herself  that  were  really  not  altogether  kind 
or  just.  She  had  asked  herself,  among  other  scathing 
inquiries,  if  it  could  be  possible  that  this  was  Miss 
Caruth  who  had  studied  man  and  his  functions  for  five 
seasons  !  And  how  could  it  be  that  she  had  allowed 
-H-  84  +- 


DISCOVER    ALL    HER    SOUL 

herself  to  forget  that  men  in  hotels,  strange  men, 
all  men  in  fact  not  introduced  by  her  chaperone, 
were  impossible  in  any  sense,  and  unthinkable  in  all 
senses,  and  to  girls  of  her  sort  practically  invisible 
as  well. 

It  was  only  when  the  perception,  that  strength 
ened  with  every  hurried,  gloomy,  perturbed  glance 
that  Graeharn  cast  in  the  direction  of  their  table, 
that  she  was  herself  a  centre  of  emotional  disturb 
ance  to  him  had  become  certainty  that  Miss  Caruth 
recovered  her  poise  and  with  it  control  of  the  situa 
tion.  The  knowledge  brought  with  it  a  tranquilizing 
sense  of  the  proper  relativity  of  things,  and  she  pro 
ceeded  to  outline  a  series  of  experiments  to  ascer 
tain  just  how  far  out  of  plumb  Graeham  might  have 
swung  in  her  direction. 

These  experiments  were  conducted  during  dinner 
for  the  most  part,  and  with  the  unswerving  instinct 
with  which  women  gauge  a  man's  susceptibility  pro 
ceeded  along  the  line  of  Graeham 's  least  resistance, 
and  were  carried  on  by  means  of  various  gowns 
that  the  young  woman  had  thriftily  decided  not 
to  waste  upon  the  desert  air  of  Morganton,  but  to 
carry  back  East  in  all  their  pristine  Paris  freshness ; 
but  which,  in  the  interest  of  her  experiment,  she 
dedicated  to  her  researches  with  reckless  disregard. 
One  in  particular  was  a  delicately  gorgeous  affair 
of  pale  primrose  yellow,  like  a  summer  sunrise,  and 
against  its  soft  luxuriance  of  color  Jane's  delicate 
-h  85  -i- 


THE    WORLD'S    WARRANT 

duskiness  —  a  duskiness  that  had  no  tinge  of  brown, 
but  was  more  the  exquisite  half  tones  of  twilight, 
deepening  to  the  coming  night  in  eyes  and  hair, 
with  the  faint  rose  in  the  West  repeated  in  her  lips 
—  was  accented  into  an  effect  of  subdued  radiance. 
She  wore  yellow  primroses  in  her  corsage,  and  the 
delicate  odor  stole  across  to  Graeham,  seated  in  lonely 
state  at  his  table,  followed  from  time  to  time  by  a 
fleeting  glance  that,  light  as  it  was  and  serenely  de 
tached,  took  note  of  the  progress  of  her  experiment; 
for  Jane  was  a  woman  first  of  all,  however  much  she 
might  suggest  in  her  saffron  robes  a  star  trembling 
upon  the  verge  of  dawn  ;  and,  though  the  casual 
eye  would  have  detected  naught  beyond  the  fact 
that  Graeham  was  neglecting  his  dinner,  she  seemed 
satisfied. 

Graeham's  strong,  pugnacious  face  was  a  trifle 
paler,  the  frowning  earnestness  of  his  brow  a  shade 
sterner  perhaps,  and  his  glance,  that  continually 
sought  the  next  table,  had  the  brooding  firmness  of 
a  man  who  weighs  himself  against  a  force  he  fears 
may  be  too  strong  for  him. 

"I'm  going  to  give  in,"  the  glance  said,  "but  I'll 
be  hanged  if  I  knock  under  without  a  struggle. 
There 's  fight  in  me  yet ! " 

But  the  next  day  Graeham's  place  at  table  was 

empty.    He  had  gone  East  for  a  fortnight,  Carlysle 

volunteered.    Miss  Caruth  made   no   reply  and   no 

audible  comment,  though  she  may  have  allowed  her- 

-H-  86  -)- 


DISCOVER    ALL    HER    SOUL 

self  a  mental  reflection  upon  the  conservative  pug 
nacity  that  fights  and  runs  away. 

For  the  first  few  days  of  his  absence  an  empty 
peace  that  was  not  ungrateful  had  replaced  the  pal 
pitating  inner  life  she  had  been  leading,  but  as  the 
days  went  on,  by  imperceptible  degrees  the  peace 
departed,  the  emptiness  deepened ;  the  Paris  gowns 
remained  upon  their  pegs,  and  Miss  Caruth  and  Billy 
Boy  went  far  afield  in  the  bright  short  winter  days ; 
the  girl  with  brooding  eyes  and  bitten  lip,  half  in 
a  dream,  half  in  troubled  introspection,  striving  to 
unwind  the  gossamer  threads  of  her  being  that  had 
been,  all  against  her  will,  caught  up  by  the  floating 
filaments  of  Graeham's  and  twisted  into  a  psycho 
logical  cable  impalpable  as  thought  and  tenacious 
as  steel.  Her  thoughts  were  still  dreamily  following 
this  new  train  that  led  always  to  Graeham's  face, 
with  its  level  glance  full  of  controlled  impetuosity, 
his  wide,  sensitive  lips  showing  passion  and  ideal 
ism,  as  she  drew  in  her  rein  at  the  end  of  a  glorious 
gallop  some  ten  days  after  Graeham's  evanishment 
and  sat  looking  down  from  the  crest  of  the  last 
long  swell  beyond  the  river  to  where  the  little  town 
like  a  pile  of  toy  blocks  lay  strewn  upon  the  dun 
carpet  of  the  fields.  It  Avas  time  for  home  already, 
but  Jane  was  loath  to  exchange  the  soft  bloom 
of  night  beginning  to  grow  upon  the  fields,  the 
blurred  sepia  of  the  woods  against  the  flaming 
west,  with  the  evening  star  pricking  the  green  ether 
-i-  87  -)- 


above  it,  for  the  bright  bustle  of  the  hotel  dinner 
hour. 

Her  cheeks  showed  a  splendid  scarlet,  for  the 
wind,  her  boon  companion  while  the  sun  shone,  had 
turned  sullen  as  his  playfellow  slipped  away  and 
nipped  shrewdly  as  she  at  last  gave  Billy  Boy 
his  head  across  the  fields  toward  the  pike,  which 
like  an  index  finger  pointed  reprovingly  toward 
home. 

Billy  Boy,  albeit  slightly  surprised  at  the  direction, 
knowing  well  enough  that  they  were  several  fields 
farther  out  than  the  panel  of  rail  fence  where  they 
usually  made  their  leap  back  into  the  pike,  having 
been  less  engrossed  with  the  tender  charm  of  the 
coming  night  than  his  rider,  nevertheless  took  his 
head  right  willingly,  feeling  the  good  red  blood 
pricking  in  him  and  his  resilient  muscles  spurning 
the  fields,  and  rose,  nothing  loath,  gallantly  to  the 
stiff  leap,  landing  clear  of  the  gully  concealed  from 
Jane  by  the  creepers  on  the  fence,  but  with  a  shock 
and  scramble  that  all  but  lost  Miss  Caruth  her  seat. 
She  picked  him  up  cleverly,  and  for  a  moment  all 
seemed  well,  until  with  a  qualm  of  wretched  fore 
boding  she  felt  the  horse  give  way  beneath  her. 
Jane  was  off  and  at  his  side  in  a  moment,  but  spite 
of  soothing  pats  from  tender  hands,  and  even  a  soft 
cheek  laid  against  his  hairy  one,  with  words  of  cheer 
mingled  with  reckless  promises  of  future  dainties, 
Billy  only  staggered  a  couple  of  stiff  steps  and  with 


DISCOVER    ALL    HER    SOUL 

drooping  head  stood  still  with  the  unutterably  for 
lorn  aspect  of  a  horse  who  knows  himself  done. 

Miss  Caruth  endeavored  to  look  the  uncompro 
mising  situation  bravely  in  the  eye,  but  a  quiver  of 
dismay  caught  her  breath  as  she  thought  of  the 
seven  miles  of  empty  pike  that  lay  between  her  and 
the  hotel,  with  the  edge  of  day  fast  slipping  away 
behind  the  belt  of  dark  woods.  Still,  grim  and  cal 
lous  as  the  pike  looked,  it  was  her  only  hope  for 
help,  and  creeping  upon  the  bank  Jane  seated  her 
self  as  closely  as  possible  to  her  horse  for  company, 
to  wait,  with  the  best  cheer  possible,  the  turn  of 
fortune's  obstinate  and  creaky  wheel. 

A  streak  of  cold  orange  in  the  west  still  lighted 
the  upper  world,  but  the  rime  of  dark  lay  heavy  on 
the  fields,  and  in  the  intense  silence  ths  swing  of  the 
planet  into  the  shadow  of  the  coming  night  could 
almost  be  felt.  The  wind  rose,  marching  sturdily 
down  the  pike,  driving  an  army  of  fugitives  before 
it;  dead  leaves,  breathless  and  harried,  and  a  half- 
empty  cotton  bole  like  the  ghost  of  a  Molly-Cotton 
tail  fled  before  it.  Overhead  the  diamond  drills  of  a 
few  early  stars  were  beginning  to  pierce  the  floor  of 
the  sky.  The  quavering  call  of  a  screech-owl,  like 
a  wee  brown  banshee  abroad  upon  the  night,  came 
from  the  woods.  And  somewhere  along  the  road  in 
the  direction  of  the  river  came  a  smooth  swish  and 
rush,  invisible  and  scarce  audible,  but  sufficient  to 
bring  Jane  with  a  joyous  bound  to  her  feet.  Car- 
-i-  89  H- 


THE    WORLD'S    WARRANT 

lysle's  was  the  only  motor  car  in  Morganton,  as  she 
well  knew,  and  she  gayly  made  ready  to  hail  him. 
But  what  niggardly  light  yet  lingered  was  enough 
to  show  her,  as  the  car  drew  out  of  the  shadows, 
that  it  was  not  Carlysle's  car,  nor  was  the  man's 
figure  wrapped  in  a  heavy  coat  Carlysle's.  Miss 
Caruth  subsided  into  as  small  a  bundle  under  Billy's 
neck  as  possible,  and  left  the  issue  with  fate,  as  the 
car  slowed  up  a  bit  uncertainly. 

"Hallo  !  "  said  a  man's  pleasant  voice,  that  sent 
a  startled  quiet  through  Jane's  bounding  nerves  as 
though  a  hand  had  been  laid  upon  their  quivering 
centre.  "Is  anything  wrong?"  went  on  the  pleasant 
voice,  with  a  note  of  blunt  comradeship  very  good 
to  hear. 

"  Nothing  very  wrong."  Jane  was  conscious  that 
her  voice  was  absurdly  small  and  sounded  slightly 
ashamed,  and  she  tried  to  make  it  braver  as  she 
went  on.  "My  horse  has  hurt  his  leg  and  I'm 
stopping  here  with  him  —  that's  all." 

"  Quite  enough,  I  should  say  !  "  Graeham  lifted 
his  cap  as  he  stopped  beside  Jane. 

"Miss  Caruth,  is  it?" 

"Yes." 

"  My  name  is  Graeham."  He  proffered  the  infor 
mation  stiffly,  restive  under  the  necessity  for  intro 
ducing  himself. 

"  I  have  seen  you  before,  Mr.  Graeham,"  com 
mented  Miss  Caruth  suavely,  yet  with  a  trace  of  the 
-h  90  -*- 


DISCOVER    ALL    HER    SOUL 

obviousness  of  one  who  says  that  he  has  seen  the 
Brooklyn  bridge.  Her  faint  smile  was  reflected 
more  broadly  by  Graeham's. 

"  Something  like  one  hundred  and  eighty  times, 
not  counting  chance  encounters  in  the  corridor,"  he 
said,  with  blunt  good  nature.  "But  I'm  in  great 
luck  to  have  happened  along  just  now. —  Gently, 
boy,  gently  !  Hurts,  eh  ?  " 

He  was  examining  the  horse  as  he  spoke,  with  the 
assured  touch  that  horses  love.  "He  's  not  much 
hurt,"  he  said  carelessly,  as  he  tied  the  reluctant 
and  depressed  Billy  Boy  to  the  fence.  "  I  '11  send 
back  for  him  from  the  next  farm,  and  take  you 
along  now.  Come"  —he  held  out  his  hand  to  Miss 
Caruth  with  something  of  the  blunt  patronage  of 
a  big  boy  to  a  smaller,  as  he  spoke.  His  voice  and 
manner  were  absolutely  lacking  in  the  deference 
which  men  unconsciously  show  to  women  of  Miss 
Caruth's  class,  and  if  it  had  been  apparent  to  her, 
with  his  first  reluctant  motion  toward  his  cap,  that 
Graeham  was  not  accustomed  to  the  care  of  women, 
his  next  act  made  her  abundantly  aware  of  it. 

"  I  have  no  rug,"  he  said,  as  Jane  seated  herself, 
"  but  my  coat  will  do  capitally." 

He  did  not  ask  her  to  allow  his  coat  the  pleasure 
nor  himself  the  honor  of  serving  her ;  he  assumed 
her  assent  to  his  proposition,  upon  the  basis  of  com 
mon  sense,  seemingly,  and  answered  her  polite  demur 
by  dropping  the  coat  bunglingly  about  her  so  that 
-*  91  +- 


she  was  literally  swamped  under  its  weight  and  sank, 
laughing  helplessly,  into  the  seat.  Graeham  sprang 
to  extricate  her  with  a  repentant  earnestness  and 
vigor  that  only  added  to  her  mirth. 

"  I  'm  a  dolt  when  it  comes  to  women,"  he  said 
after  a  moment,  and  with  a  coolness  that  saved  the 
situation  for  him,  though  Jane  had  divined  his 
chagrin,  "as  I've  just  proved  !  But  I  hadn't  any 
idea,  really,  what  a  clumsy  brute  I  could  be.  I  see 
now.  It  should  be  held  off,  so.  May  I  try  again  ? 
Thank  you." 

He  eased  the  coat  down  gently  so  that  it  settled  in 
folds  about  her,  and  glanced  naively  at  Miss  Caruth 
for  her  approval.  She  gave  it  graciously. 

"  Very  clever,"  she  assured  him,  with  a  smile. 
"But,  of  course,  you  would  not  be  quite  so  deliberate 
ordinarily.  In  public,  you  know,"  —  this  with  soft 
didacticism,  —  "it  should  be  done  without  the  small 
est  fuss.  There  is  nothing  that  so  bores  a  woman 
as  to  be  fussed  over  "  -  an  imperceptible  break 
which  Graeham  passed  over  in  the  earnestness  of  his 
attention  —  "  in  public." 

"  I  see.  Thank  you.  I  'd  catch  on  quite  easily  if 
I  had  you  to  give  me  a  tip  now  and  then.  May  I 
try  to  button  it?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  Jane,  and  deftly  assisted  him  so  that 
this  time  the  lesson  went  off  to  Graeham's  immense 
satisfaction,   though  Miss  Caruth  heard  the  tense 
breath  he  drew  as  the  last  button  went  home. 
-+  92  H- 


DISCOVER    ALL    HER    SOUL 

"  Did  n't  you  ever  before  ?  "  she  asked,  as  she  met 
his  smile,  at  once  deprecating  and  congratulatory, 
and  was  instantly  sorry  that  she  had  asked. 

"  Lend  my  coat  to  a  girl  ?  No."  He  paused 
curtly,  and  gave  his  attention  to  the  car,  and  for 
a  moment  a  frost  of  silence  chilled  the  previous 
moment  of  understanding.  Jane  watched  the  rail 
fences,  that  like  lean,  spined  serpents  kept  pace  be 
side  the  car,  and  Graeham  looked  straight  ahead. 

"  I  avoid  women  as  a  rule,"  said  he  abruptly, 
taking  up  the  word  where  he  had  dropped  it,  "  and 
in  circumstances  such  as  these  I  naturally  pay  the 
penalty." 

He  still  stared  straight  ahead,  and  behind  the 
collar  of  the  coat  Jane  watched  him  with  smiling, 
speculative  eyes.  There  was  something  distinctly 
racy  in  Graeham' s  frankly  unattached  virility,  the 
blunt  candor  of  which  robbed  it  of  the  slightest 
suspicion  of  posing. 

"  The  game  "  —  he  resumed  presently,  his  explica 
tive  tone  just  dashed  with  anxiety  lest  Jane  might 
not  fully  understand  that  his  policy  was  one  of  delib 
erate  choice  and  not  lack  of  perception  —  "  the  game 
has  never  seemed  to  me  to  be  worth  the  candle." 

The  frank  abstraction  of  his  tone ;  perhaps,  too, 
something  in  the  crisp,  mellow  tones  themselves, 
made  a  personal  application  impossible.  Miss  Caruth 
held  aside  the  collar  of  the  coat  and  showed  him  her 
face  full  of  saucy  pleading. 

-i-  93  -f- 


THE    WORLD'S    WARRANT 

"  Don't !  "  she  murmured  demurely.  "  Please 
don't  say  any  more !  If  you  do  I  shall  be  bound  to 
assert  the  dignity  of  my  sex  and  get  out  upon  the 
road  —  and  it's  so  awfully  dark  and  cold! " 

"  I  'm  not  rabid,"  said  he,  with  a  smile  and  a  quick 
glance  that  stabbed  to  the  heart  of  the  situation. 
"  And  please  understand  that  when  I  say  '  avoid ' 
I  'm  speaking  of  the  social  phase.  In  this  particular 
instance  I  assure  you  I  am  heartily  glad  you  decided 
to  come  with  me"  — 

"  '  Decided '  ?  "  echoed  Jane,  with  slightly  raised 
brows.  "  There  was  not  much  margin  for  choice, 
was  there?" 

"  There  was  a  moment  when  I  feared —  Of  course 
I  should  not  have  left  you,  but  —  However,  I  'm 
thoroughly  glad  your  good  sense  came  out  ahead 
of  convention  this  time.  Not  just  for  the  pleasure  of 
having  you  with  me;  though"  —  Graeham  paused 
reflectively — "I  like  that,  too,  no  end.  But  really 
I  've  wanted  very  much  to  say  something  to  you, 
and  as  things  were  I  did  not  quite  see  how  I  could." 

"  Why  did  not  you  get  some  one  to  introduce 
you  in  the  usual  way?"  asked  Miss  Caruth  sensi- 
bly. 

Graeham  laughed  ;  a  quiet  laugh,  reminiscently 
amused,  a  trifle  shamefaced.  "  A  man  hates  to 
knock  under  like  that !  I  wanted  to  ask  you  to  for 
give  my  rudeness  that  time,  you  remember  ?  " 

"  Oh,  don't !  "  cried  Miss  Caruth  impetuously,  "  at 

-H-  94   •(- 


DISCOVER    ALL    HER    SOUL 

least,  do ;  but  let  me  apologize  too.  I  was  dreadfully 
rude  and — and  unkind  to  you" 

"  You  gave  me  a  pretty  hard  knock,"  agreed 
Graeham  frankly.  "  We  '11  take  turn  about  to  apolo 
gize  if  you  like  ;  but  it 's  my  first  go,  because  "  —he 
gave  a  quick  laugh — "I  knocked  the  chip  off  your 
shoulder  first ! " 

"  Off  my  shoulder  !  I  assure  you,  Mr.  Graeham, 
I  hadn't  any  chip  on  my  shoulder !  " 

"  Indeed  you  had,  the  worst  sort." 

"I  did  n't  know  it ;  I  did  n't  mean  to.  And  do 
you  know,"  she  went  on  a  little  shyly,  "  since  I  've 
thought  that  I,  that  perhaps  I " 

"  No  ;  I  can't  funk  like  that.  You  did  n't  imagine 
it.  I  really  was  brute  enough  to  scowl  at  you.  Not 
at  you  either,  you  understand,  but  at  something,  a 
great  many  things  you  stand  for." 

Miss  Caruth  laughed  lightly.  "  That  /stand  for? 
If  you  knew  me  better  you  'd  know  that  I  am  one 
of  the  zeros  of  life,  Mr.  Graeham.  My  only  signifi 
cance  is  one  of  place." 

"  Ay,"  said  he  bluntly,  "  I  know  that  sort  of  sig 
nificance  !  I  'm  a  bad  hand  at  splitting  hairs,  Miss 
Caruth,"  he  broke  out,  with  a  gesture  of  hard  earnest 
ness,  "  but  you  have  a  perception,  at  least,  uncon 
scious  perhaps,  but  true,  of  what  I  mean.  You  must 
have,  you  know;  for  you  saw  in  me  the  antithesis 
of  the  thing  I  scowled  at  in  you,  and  you  flung  it 
in  my  face  when  you  hit  back.  No,"  —as  Jane  made 

-+    95     H- 


THE    WORLD'S    WARRANT 

a  faint  motion  of  pleading,  —  "  no  ;  there  was  no 
thing  unfair  in  it,  and  you  were  exactly  right,  as  it 
happened,  all  except  my  tie  "  —  he  drew  her  atten 
tion  smilingly  to  it  with  a  touch.  "  I  rather  think 
my  tie  is  all  right !  " 

The  wind  caught  the  coat  about  Jane  and  tore  it 
from  her  grasp,  flinging  it  abroad,  and  Graeham 
leaned  across  her  to  secure  it  with  a  strong  assured 
touch. 

"  I'm  improving?"  — he  smiled  interrogatively  at 
her,  and  she  nodded  a  bright  assent.  "  It  was  not  an 
office  boy,  though,"  he  resumed  presently.  "  I  was 
always  a  good  strong  chap  worth  a  dollar  a  day.  It 
was  a  pick  and  shovel,  Miss  Caruth,"  he  wound  up 
quietly.  "  Not  quite  up  to  the  office-boy  mark,  eh  ?" 

Jane  could  not  see  his  face,  but  her  ear  inter 
preted  accurately  enough  the  sore  pride  that  spoke 
in  his  rasping  tone,  hastening  with  fierce  independ 
ence  to  forestall  the  social  patronage  he  resented. 
They  were  running  into  the  one  long  street  of  the 
town  before  he  spoke  again. 

"We're  getting  in,"  he  remarked;  then,  "Hadn't 
we  better  see  how  we  stand  first?" 

"If  you  do  not  know,"  returned  Miss  Caruth 
evenly.  Graeham  looked  quickly  down,  but  the 
darkness  was  as  baffling  as  the  level  sweetness  of 
her  tone. 

"  Your  score  wiped  out  mine,  so  we  are  even ;  ex 
cept,"  meditatively,  "  that  I  am  this  hour  to  the  good, 
-i-  96  H- 


DISCOVER    ALL    HER    SOUL 

What  I  mean  is,  how  is  it  to  be  after  this?"    he 
concluded  bluntly. 

" '  Ever  the  best  of  friends,  Pip ! ' "  cried  Jane  gayly, 
and  extricating  a  hand  from  her  wraps  held  it  out 
to  him.  Graeham  did  not  take  it,  though  he  laid 
his  own  detainingly  upon  it. 

"  Just  a  moment,  please.  What,  in  your  code, 
does  friendship  mean  between  a  man  of  my  sort  and 
a  girl  of  yours?  You  'd  expect  to  '  dangle '  me  — 
women  call  it  that,  don't  they? — as  you  do  Clark 
and  Prentiss  and  that  young  ass  of  an  Englishman 
who  is  always  in  your  pocket — and,  frankly,  I 
don't  believe  I  'd  dangle  successfully  !  "  He  laughed 
brusquely.  A  scorching  flush  had  risen  to  Miss 
Caruth's  cheek,  and  she  sought  gently  to  regain  her 
hand,  but  Graeham's  light  hold  tightened. 

"  Don't  miss  my  point,"  he  said  quietly,  the  win 
ning  note  of  comradeship  in  his  tone  again ;  "  I  'm 
trying  so  hard  to  be  fair  with  you.  Listen.  I  'm  not 
the  sort  of  man  you  know,  Miss  Caruth.  I  'm  a 
common  sort  of  chap,  and  I  don't  know  the  rules  of 
the  game  as  you  play  it  —  a  man  don't  learn  your 
game  shoveling  dirt  with  a  section  gang.  And  you 
see,"  he  leaned  insistently  toward  her  as  he  spoke, 
"  you  see  /  knew  it  all  the  time  —  all  these  weeks  — 
*  Mean  ?  '  He  took  her  up  with  rough  earnestness, 
"  Do  you  suppose  I  am  a  stick  or  a  stone  !  I  may 
not  be  your  sort,  but  —  I  'm  a  man,"  he  finished 
with  grave  simplicity. 

-+  97  -i- 


THE    WORLD'S    WARRANT 

"  Oh,  don't  —  don't,"  murmured  Miss  Caruth, 
with  her  face  turned  from  him,  her  hand  gripping 
the  door  beside  her,  "I —  what  have  I  " — 

"Just  a  moment,"  pleaded  he  again;  "I  wanted 
you  to  know  why  I "  -  his  voice  broke  harshly,  and 
he  made  no  effort  to  finish  the  sentence,  but  took  it 
up  further  along.  "  It  was  because  I  knew  you  could 
not  know —  how  could  you?  —  my  sort  of  man." 
Graeham  bared  his  broad,  white  hand  and  held  it 
defiantly  before  Jane  as  he  went  on.  "  The  scars  of 
the  pick  are  on  it  still,  you  see?  And  what  they 
stand  for  has  soaked  into  me  to  the  bone."  He 
laughed  raspingly.  "  Ten  years  of  that  marks  a  man 
for  life,  Miss  Caruth.  It  is  the  brand  of  the  '  humble 
people,'  and  I  belong  to  them  still  in  many  ways, 
though  I  "- 

Miss  Caruth  did  not  speak  ;  she  had  a  sense  of 
consternation,  of  shock,  of  breathlessness,  of  hav 
ing  mentally  run  against  something  in  the  dark. 
Graeham  stepped  down  and  offered  her  his  hand  to 
assist  her. 

"  Well,"  he  said,  a  little  harshly,  still  retaining  it, 
"  is  it  to  be  friends,  or  "  — 

"Friends,"  said  Jane,  amazed  that  her  voice 
served  her  so  well. 

Graeham  clasped  her  hand  closer.  "  Partners,  eh  ? 
Pickaxe  and  all  ?  " 

"  Pickaxe  and  all,"  said  she  gently. 


LIKE    A    FATE 


CHAPTER  VI 

{t  It  seemed  too  much  like  a  fate,  indeed  !  " 

GRAEHAM  left  Miss  Caruth  at  Mrs.  Carlysle's  door 
and  passed  on  to  his  own  rooms.  A  pile  of  mail  lay 
upon  the  desk,  and  he  seated  himself  before  it  with 
determined  aspect,  only,  however,  to  sink  back  in 
his  chair  a  moment  after  in  a  fit  of  musing,  whis 
tling  an  absent-minded  stave  as  he  rumpled  the  short 
locks  on  his  forehead,  with  eyes  that  were  amused, 
chagrined,  stern,  and  self-accusing  by  turns. 

Graeham's  proper  background  was  one  of  inci 
dent  ;  it  required  movement,  emotion,  to  show  him  at 
his  best;  things  should  be  happening  —  he  making 
them  happen,  preferably  —  to  develop  the  full  stature 
of  the  man.  Here,  dreaming  over  his  letters,  there 
was  not  a  pin  to  choose  between  him  and  hundreds 
of  men  of  his  type  —  a  type,  by  the  way,  that  nature 
is  rather  fond  of  reproducing  in  this  virile  age.  Not 
by  any  means  a  complex  piece  of  mechanism,  Grae- 
ham  was  built  upon  simple  lines,  calculated  to  combine 
the  greatest  potential  with  the  least  expenditure  on 
detail;  a  workmanlike  enough  article,  with  a  final 
capacity  equal  to  a  dozen  such  men  as,  say  Carlysle, 
for  instance,  who  required  all  sorts  of  delicate  run 
ning  gear  to  guy  his  natural  impulses,  to  say  nothing 
-+  99  •*- 


THE    WORLD'S    WARRANT 

of  society,  which  acted  as  a  fly-wheel  to  steady  his 
jerks. 

Women  define  such  men  as  Graeham — with  a  line 
between  their  brows  such  as  comes  there  when  they 
speak  of  "a  glare"  —  as  "Impossible,  you  know!" 
But  they  rarely  fail  to  marry  a  man  of  this  kind 
if  he  gives  them  the  chance,  after  which  event 
they  change  the  adjective  describing  him  to  "  com 
fortable." 

Graeham  roused  himself  after  a  bit  from  his  mus 
ing,  and  pushing  aside  his  unopened  mail  took  up 
a  pen,  his  lips  as  he  wrote  falling  into  lines  of 
humor  oddly  opposed  to  the  concentrated  gravity 
of  his  eyes.  He  began  informally  :  — 

DEAR  JEM,  —  I  have  yours  of  the  18th  with  one 
inclosure.  Keep  a  sharp  lookout  for  others  of  the 
same  sort,  and  forward  to  me  here  without  delay. 
Trust  no  hand  but  yours  in  this,  old  man,  and  use 
registered  mail. 

The  affair  hangs  fire  unaccountably.  No  clue  as 
yet.  I  '11  stick  to  it  for  a  bit,  however ;  I  'm  not 
used  to  being  beaten. 

The  devil  is  in  it,  you  know !  I  could  carry  this 
whole  town  in  the  crown  of  my  hat,  and  yet  —  to  be 
baffled  in  this  way.  The  thing  is  being  uncommonly 
skillfully  worked,  and  I  'm  about  ready  to  agree 
with  your  theory  of  a  man's  hand  being  in  it. 

Morganton    is    a  miniature  boom  town ;    sound 

-H-     100     -H- 


LIKE    A    FATE 


enough  little  job  too,  as  far  as  it  goes.  It  is  backed 
by  Eastern  capital,  in  the  hands  of  a  ring  of  gentle 
manly  grafters  with  the  N.  Y.  brand.  You  know 
their  sort, — shiver  on  the  brink  six  weeks  before  they 
wade  in.  They  call  it  "finessing."  I've  dabbled  a 
bit  to  give  color  to  being  here. 

I  don't  hold  with  your  suggestion  as  to  the  Pin- 
kerton  man.  It 's  caddish,  to  my  way  of  thinking  — 
putting  a  detective  on  a  woman.  I  will  work  it 
myself. 

She  may  be  in  any  of  these  half-dozen  counties 
along  the  river  ;  Morganton  is  the  distributing  point 
for  all  the  river  villages. 

No  go  here.  The  women  at  this  place  are  irre 
concilable,  quite.  Eastern,  correct,  painfully  sophis 
ticated,  and  all  plainly  tagged  and  labeled  —  all  but 
one  girl  who  is  visiting  here.  She  looks  like  a  gar 
denia,  or  those  little  flowers  you  brought  liome  across 
the  continent  that  you  said  you  dug  out  of  the  snow 
"  back  East,"  you  blooming  old  liar ! 
Yours  truly, 

CAMPBELL  K.  GRAEHAM. 

Graeham  was  writing  the  address  upon  the  enve 
lope  when  the  faint  rattle  of  a  key  withdrawn  from 
the  lock  met  his  ear. 

"  Come  in,"  he  said,  without  turning.  "  Go  on 
with  your  tidying,  if  you  like  ;  I  'm  going  out  in  a 
moment."  And  suddenly  recalling  a  grievance,  - 

-H-    101     H- 


THE    WORLD'S    WARRANT 

"  Cora,  don't  touch  my  desk,  like  a  good  girl.    I 
want  to  find  things  where  I  put  them  "  — 

"  My  name  's  Miss  Larkin,"  said  a  voice  so  full 
of  ruffled  dignity  and  so  unexpected  that  Graeham 
dropped  a  plash  of  ink  upon  his  letter  in  the  start 
he  gave  as  he  stared  at  the  debonair  figure  before 
him.  The  girl  held  a  broom  and  dustpan  awkwardly 
away  from  the  elaborate  frills  and  open-work  of  a 
coquettish  apron  that  adorned  the  trim  dark  gown 
she  wore,  whose  well-cut  lines  defined  the  sinuous 
grace  of  her  figure.  Upon  her  hair,  as  heavy  and 
lustreless  as  raw  silk,  a  dainty  cap  rested,  embel 
lished  with  a  big  lilac  bow  that  betrayed  in  every 
crisp  turn  the  hand  of  an  artist ;  and  Mrs.  Carlysle 
and  Miss  Caruth  had,  in  fact,  spent  their  combined 
efforts  for  several  days  to  produce  the  effect  at 
which  Graeham  was  staring  in  unaffected  astonish 
ment,  which  changed  to  amusement  as  the  girl's 
round  chin  drew  upward  in  a  pout  of  naively  offended 
dignity  immensely  diverting.  He  noted  mechani 
cally  the  lines  of  temper  in  the  close  of  her  straight 
red  mouth  and  the  breadth  of  her  low  white  fore 
head,  which  denoted,  he  thought,  no  lack  of  brains 
upon  "  Miss  Larkin's  "  part. 

"  Oh  —  Miss  Larkin,  is  it?"  he  said  banteringly. 
"  Well,  Miss  Larkin,  if  you  are  to  so  far  honor 
me"- 

"  I  don't  see  nothin'  to  laugh  at,"  she  took  him 
up  shortly. 

-H-  102  *- 


LIKE    A    FATE 


"  Well,  I  '11  be  hanged !  "  murmured  Graeham. 
He  grave  a  short  laugh  as  he  leaned  back  in  his 

o  o 

chair  contemplating  her  at  his  leisure. 

"  Who  fixed  you  up  like  that  ?  "  he  asked,  with  a 
smile. 

"  Like  what,  I  'd  like  to  know  !  " 

"  Like  a  soubrette  in  a  play." 

"  Er  what  ?  Miss  Caruth  made  my  cap  and  apron 
and  give  me  th'  bow." 

The  effect  of  this  was  intended  to  be  crushing, 
but  Graeham  only  sat  up  with  fresh  interest. 

"  Are  you  Miss  Caruth's  maid  ?  " 

"  Maid ! "  she  echoed,  with  the  flash  of  temper 
that  he  had  expected  and  a  scandalized  indignation 
that  actually  disconcerted  Graeham.  "  Do  you 
'spose  I  'd  be  er  woman's  maid  ?  " 

"In  all  the  story-books  the  princess  in  disguise  is 
a  lady's  maid,"  explained  he  gravely.  Not  a  touch 
of  humor  responded  to  his  smile,  however. 

"  I  'm  th'  linen-closet  woman,"  she  vouchsafed 
him  at  last,  with  absolutely  freezing  dignity,  "'n'  I  'm 
takin'  Cora's  place  this  one  time  "  —  she  paused  to 
note  the  effect  of  this  upon  Graeham  —  "  to  'blige 
Mr.  Willard." 

"What's  Miss  Caruth  making  you  caps  for?" 

"  She  said  it  was  l  unthinkable  '  to  have  er  apron 
hemmed  with  er  machine,"  —  she  held  out  the  hem 
to  Graeham,  who  inspected  it  gravely,  — "  'n'  she 
done  it  with  her  hands." 

-i-  103  +- 


THE    WORLD'S    WARRANT 

A  slight  resentment  showed  in  her  manner,  and 
Graeham  smiled. 

"  '  Unthinkable  '  is  a  great  word  of  Miss  Camth's  ; 
you  must  n't  mind.  She  called  my  tie  'unthinkable/ 
too." 

"  Was  you  mad  at  her  ?  "  coming  a  step  nearer. 

"A  little.    Were  you?" 

"  Awful  mad.  But  I  hate  her  all  th'  time," 
frankly. 

"  Why,  you  little  cat !  "  cried  Graeham,  with  an 
irrepressible  laugh.  "  And  she  slaving  to  make  you 
caps  !  Fie !  Why  do  you  hate  her  ?  "  he  asked  more 
gravely.  Gallic  dropped  her  broom  and  duster  and 
leaned  her  elbows  upon  the  desk  beside  Graeham. 

"  I  dunno,"  she  said  slowly ;  "  it  jest  rises  up  in 
my  bosom  uv  itself.     You  know  that  pink  dress  — 
gown,   I   mean  —  that   she  wears  to  dances?    It's 
short,"-  —eagerly  prompting  him  as  he  hesitated,— 
"  'n'  shows  her  pink  slippers  with  high  heels." 

"I  think  I  know,"  said  Graeham. 

"  Well,"  she  finished  simply,  "  that 's  why." 

As  she  leaned  beside  him  Graeham  noted  the 
porcelain-like  quality  of  her  skin,  the  deep  slate  blue 
of  her  eyes,  and  his  keen  glance  softened  as  she 
spoke. 

"  Feelings  like  those  are  bad  for  people,"  he  said 
kindly,  "  and  they  '11  spoil  your  complexion." 

He  drew  a  couple  of  notes  from  his  pocket  and 
slipped  them  to  her  along  the  table. 

-H.  104  H- 


LIKE    A    FATE 


"  Buy  you  a  little  pink  gown  and  some  high- 
heeled  slippers,  and  go  to  the  next  dance  that  comes 
along  and  forget  about  hating  people,"  he  coun 
seled  her  cheerily.  He  was  bored  with  her,  but 
oddly  sympathetic,  too.  Deep  within  some  cob- 
webbed  corner  of  his  own  mind  he  felt  the  stir 
of  a  withered  leaf  of  memory,  as  dull  of  hue  as  her 
own  confession,  that  had  once  shamed  his  man 
hood.  She  flicked  the  money  carelessly  back  to 
him. 

"  I  don't  ker  nothin'  erbouten  money ;  not 
money  dry  so  —  lessen  you  could  have  all  th'  other 
things, — clothes,  'n'  -  -  'n'  beaux,  'n'  things.  Air  you 
Miss  Caruth's  beau?  " 

"  I  ?  "  Graeham  turned  hastily  to  his  forgotten 
letter  and  busied  himself  stripping  off  the  spoiled 
envelope,  which  he  cast  aside. 

"  What  would  my  own  girl  think  of  that  ?  "  he 
asked  her  teasingly. 

"  Air  you  'ngaged  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  laughed  Graeham. 

"What  's  her  name?" 

"  I  don't  know." 

"  Pooh !  I  won't  never  tell.  Cross  my  heart !  "  and 
she  did  it  then  and  there,  to  Graeham's  huge  amuse 
ment  ;  but  even  that  solemn  ritual  could  not  win  his 
confidence. 

"  I  don't  know,  honestly !  She  goes  under  an 
alias  with  me." 

-i-  105  •<- 


THE    WORLD'S    WARRANT 

"  You  say  awful  funny  words,"  murmured  the 
girl;  " wher'erbouts  does  she  live?" 

"  I  wish  to  God  I  knew !  "  exclaimed  Graeham, 
with  so  involuntary  a  sincerity  that  the  girl  started 
with  surprise. 

"  Shucks !    Uv  course  you  know." 

"  I  '11  swear  I  don't." 

"  But  'f  you  're  'ngaged  to  her  you  'd  be  'bliged 
to  know  her  name  !  " 

"  Not  at  all !  Suppose  you  were  to  write  to  some 
fellow  out  West,  say  on  the  other  side  of  nowhere 
from  here,  and  say  there  was  a  pretty  blue-eyed 
little  girl  here,  with  a  temper  like  a  handful  of 
nettles,  who  'd  love  him  if  he  liked,  and  of  course 
he  would  like,  would  n't  you  be  '  'ngaged'  to  him?" 

"But  —  but,"  she  stammered,  "  he  'd  be  'bliged  to 
write  his  name  to  th'  letter  !  " 

Her  breath  died  in  her  throat,  her  heart  was  beat 
ing  in  stifling  jerks,  but  she  achieved  the  sentence. 
Graeham  was  rewriting  the  address  upon  the  letter 
and  did  not  answer  for  a  moment. 

"Not  much  he  would!  "  he  laughed  down  on  her 
as  he  rose.  "  He  might  think  his  own  name  was  not 
fine  enough  to  go  l  courtin' '  with,  and  borrow  one  for 
the  occasion.  Here,  take  your  money  —  take  it,  I 
say  !  "  He  opened  her  hand  and  closed  it  upon  the 
notes,  and  was  gone. 

As  the  door  closed  behind  him  the  girl  sank  into 
his  chair  in  a  trance  of  amazement ;  a  slight,  inward 

-H.  106  1- 


LIKE    A    FATE 


trembling  seized  her  at  intervals,  her  brain  swam 
with  the  daze  of  ideas  that  crowded  upon  her. 
What  did  he  mean  ?  Did  he  know  ?  Was  it,  could 
it  be  possible  ?  Breath  failed  her. 

Stories  of  Graeham's  wealth,  the  success  of  his  busi 
ness  ventures  at  Morganton,  his  careless  munificence 
in  the  little  town,  had  filtered  through  successive 
strata  of  hotel  society  until  they  had  reached  the 
little  linen  woman  in  her  secluded  niche;  and  un 
able  to  resist  the  desire  to  see  the  man  of  whom  she 
had  heard  so  much,  she  had  effected  a  trade  with 
Cora,  whereby  certain  personal  belongings  had  been 
transferred  to  that  astute  damsel,  in  return  for  the 
use  and  privileges  of  her  pass-key,  with  a  result 
almost  as  startling  as  though  Cora's  key  had  un 
locked  Bluebeard's  chamber  of  horrors. 

Callie's  nature,  by  one  of  heredity's  grim  jests, 
was  a  psychological  amalgam  of  hard  shrewdness 
combined  with  a  temperament  as  light  as  froth,  shot 
through  by  the  instinctive  refinements,  the  luxu 
rious  tastes,  and  the  headlong  passions  of  a  long  line 
of  spoiled  and  imperious  women  ;  and,  brought  into 
contact  with  her  natural  environment,  the  girl  had 
sloughed  off  her  outer  integument  of  crudeness  and 
coarseness,  and  had  absorbed  greedily  from  the 
atmosphere  about  her  the  natural  aliment  for  her 
hitherto  unknown  self. 

The  mental  stimulus  of  her  new  life  had  quickened 
every  faculty,  and  she  had  seized  with  instant  com- 
-H-  107  +- 


THE    WORLD'S    WARRANT 

prehension  upon  the  core  of  possibility  underlying 
Graeham's  jesting  words,  arriving  at  a  partial  solu 
tion  of  the  situation  by  a  feat  of  mental  gymnastics 
that  scorned  deduction.  Her  tense  attitude  relaxed, 
and  her  eyes,  roving  idly  about  the  desk,  fell  upon 
the  discarded  envelope ;  she  gathered  it  up  mechani 
cally  to  tidy  it  away,  and  paused  again,  arrested 
by  the  name  upon  it.  Once  and  again  tracing  the 
letters  with  her  finger,  she  spelled  out  the  name, 
unconsciously  helped  by  her  familiarity  with  Good- 
loe's  writing  in  the  letters  which  she  had  so  often 
spelled  out  in  the  same  way :  "  Mr.  James  H. 
Goodloe,  U.  &  G.  Rolling  Stock  Mills,  Redfalls, 
Nevada." 

She  gazed  with  parted  lips  upon  the  scrap  of 
paper  as  her  thoughts,  like  a  revolving  whirl  of  water, 
spun  dizzily  about  the  central  fact  of  Graeham's 
indubitable  connection  with  Goodloe.  But  how?  — 
which  was  Goodloe  ?  which  Graeham  ?  One  man 
with  two  names,  —  her  whirling  brain  could  scarce 
hold  the  fact  a  second,  —  or  two  men  with  inter 
changeable  names  ?  She  strove  to  untangle  the  coil 
of  personality,  constantly  confused  and  swerved 
aside  from  even  such  reasoning  as  she  was  capable 
of  by  the  captivating  hope,  the  new  delicious  dream, 
that  the  man  who  had  just  left  her  might  be  the 
unknown,  half-feared  fate  toward  which  she  was 
drifting.  She  wrung  her  hands  together  in  an  ec- 
stacy  of  hope.  Then,  suddenly  as  if  a  shutter  had 
-+  108  +- 


LIKE    A    FATE 


snapped  open  in  her  brain,  the  hard  practical  side 
of  her  nature  slipped  uppermost.  She  sprang  up,  and 
passing  into  Graeham's  bedroom  beyond,  as  softly  as 
a  breeze  might  move  among  a  bed  of  flowers  went 
through  his  belongings.  His  keys  !  Where  did  he 
keep  them?  The  lock  of  dressing-case  and  letter- 
case  were  both  fast.  She  did  not  waste  herself  in 
useless  effort;  there  would  be  other  times.  And 
gathering  up  the  torn  scrap  of  paper,  she  hid  it  in 
her  dress,  and  softly  went  her  way. 

Meanwhile,  in  Mrs.  Carlysle's  sitting-room  some 
dozen  yards  away,  a  perturbed  and  somewhat  puz 
zled  trio  of  self-elected  fates  sat  in  council  about 
the  hearth.  Carlysle  from  his  place  upon  the  rug 
contemplated  his  two  confederates  with  amusement 
that  was  dashed  broadly  with  gravity ;  the  amuse 
ment  directed  to  the  faces  of  his  companions,  the 
gravity  to  the  letter  in  his  hand.  From  Mrs.  Car 
lysle's  hand  dangled  a  string  of  beautiful  pearls, 
and  Miss  Caruth,  still  in  her  habit,  held  an  open 
ring-box  in  her  hand  and  balanced  meditatively 
upon  her  palm  two  rings,  a  lady's  and  a  gentleman's 
engagement  ring,  heavy  bands  of  plain  gold  set 
round  with  diamonds. 

"  Let  Goodloe  alone,"  Carlysle  urged  energeti 
cally.  "Why  cannot  the  man  do  what  he  likes  with 
his  money  ?  I  '11  lay  anything  you  like  he  has  not 
got  the  fun  out  of  anything  since  he  left  off 
-i-  109  +- 


THE    WORLD'S    WARRANT 

red-topped  boots  that  he  's  getting  out  of  sending 
Jane  "  - 

"Jane!" 

Miss  Caruth  turned  eyes  of  grave  reproof  upon 
him,  and  his  wife  rose,  and,  with  the  aspect  of  one 
forced  against  her  will  to  assume  responsibility  for 
what  she  has  all  along  disapproved  of,  crossed  the 
floor  with  a  protesting  murmur  of  silk  and  rang  the 
bell,  and  sent  a  message  for  Miss  Larkin.  Neither 
took  any  further  notice  of  Carlysle.  He  laughed 
sardonically. 

"  If  ever  I  am  fool  enough  again  to  go  partners 
with  two  girls  !  -  Why,  of  course  it 's  Jane  this 
fellow  is  in  love  with.  What  does  he  know  about 
this  little  simpleton  here,  forty  fathoms  deep  in  a 
flirtation  with  Willard  ?  " 

"  I  told  you,  Jane,"  remarked  Mrs.  Carlysle,  with 
the  serenity  born  of  absolute  conviction,  "  that  Cal- 
lie  Larkin  was  a  double  little  piece." 

"  Well,  I  don't  know  that,"  deliberated  Carlysle, 
with  the  air  of  mentally  turning  Callie  this  way  and 
that  to  get  a  better  light  upon  her.  "  She  's  playing 
her  own  little  game  in  her  own  way,  but  so  long  as 
she  steers  clear  of  trouble  "  — 

"  But  suppose  she  throws  this  man  over  ?  " 

"  Well,  suppose  she  does  ?  Not  that  she  has  the 
slightest  idea  of  it ;  throwing  people  over  is  not 
Callie's  metier." 

"  It  would  be  dishonorable,  cruel !  And  it  would 
^-  110  -.- 


reflect  more  upon  us  than  upon  her.  Gallic  is  an 
ignorant,  undisciplined  girl ;  we  "  Miss  Caruth  sat 
erect,  her  eyes  full  of  tender  sternness,  a  spot  of 
rose  beginning  to  glow  upon  her  delicate  cheek. 
"I,"  she  resumed,  "/  drew  this  man  into  this  thing, 
this  entanglement,  and  in  honor  " 

"  He  '11  be  glad  to  be  free  of  it,  I  dare  say." 

"  He  is  very  much  in  love  with  her,"  said  Miss 
Caruth  quietly.  "  Read  his  letter  for  yourself !  " 

"  With  whom?"  retorted  Carlysle  bluntly,—  " the 
writer  of  these  letters  !  " 

A  soft  knock  was  followed  by  Callie's  entrance. 
Her  cheeks  were  a  vivid  carnation,  and  her  lips 
curled  upward  at  the  corners  in  the  Puck-like  smile 
she  wore  in  moments  that  in  any  other  than  Callie 
would  be  called  moments  of  mental  tension.  The  ten 
sion  was  evident  enough  upon  the  little  group  within ; 
the  air  smelt  of  fate,  and  each  was  uncomfortably 
aware  of  having  for  the  time  being  slipped  out  of 
his  ordinary  groove  and  as  uncomfortably  aware 
of  making  an  effort  to  appear  that  he  had  not. 

"  Sit  here  by  me,  Callie,"  said  Miss  Caruth  kindly. 
"  There  is  a  letter  from  Mr.  Goodloe,  and  he  has 
sent  you  something  to  make  you  think  of  him.  You 
will  like  that,  will  you  not  ?  " 

She  took  the  pearls  from  Mrs.  Carlysle  and  clasped 
them  about  Callie's  throat,  the  girl  submitting  her 
self  with  passive  indifference  to  her  hand. 

Callie  had  an  odd  gift  of  flatting  situations  to 

-H     111     -t- 


THE    WORLD'S    WARRANT 

whose  heights  she  could  not  or  would  not  rise.  It 
was  not  the  tactful  carrying  of  them  off  that  comes 
with  social  training,  and  not  always  then,  nor  the 
high-handed  abridgment  of  them  that  is  the  attri 
bute  of  certain  drawing-room  Napoleons ;  Callie 
simply  ignored  the  tragic  wherever  she  encountered 
it,  repudiated  the  inexplicable,  and  there  was  that  in 
her  calm  oblivion  to  all  not  entirely  obvious  that 
carried  others  with  her  spite  of  their  superior  training. 

"I  've  got  er  string  uv  beads,"  she  said  easily,  and 
twirled  the  pearls  upon  her  finger,  "  prettier  'n  these ; 
mine  air  pink." 

Carlysle  broke  into  a  peal  of  laughter ;  her  cool 
insouciance  delighted  him  always. 

"  Beads ! "  gasped  Mrs.  Carlysle.  "  Those  exquisite 
pearls ! " 

"  The  letter  has  no  regular  beginning,"  said  Car 
lysle,  preparing  to  read. 

"  Not  no  beginnin'  ? "  gasped  Callie,  turning 
startled  eyes  on  Jane ;  "  I  jes'  know  he's  mad  at  me ! " 

"  i  No  letter  this  week,  Mary  ? '  read  Carlysle. 
' Don't  you  know  that  your  letter  day  is  my  Sunday? 
I  keep  it  holy,  and  read  the  letter  bit  by  bit  to  make 
it  last  the  longer '  "  — 

("Ain't  he  er  goose?"  interpolated  Callie,  in 
Jane's  ear. 

"  He  's  lovely  !  '  indignantly  responded  Miss 
Caruth.  "  Be  still !")  — "  'and  then  I  wear  it  in  my 
pocket  until  the  next  one  comes  to  relieve  guard.' ' 

-t-    112     4- 


LIKE    A    FATE 


("  Did  you  ever  hear  such  nonsense,  Kate  ?  "  asked 
Carlysle,  with  a  long  look  into  his  wife's  eyes. 

"  Yes  ;  once  before  !  ") 

"  *  But  seriously  I  have  been  anxious.  Of  course, 
under  any  other  circumstances  I  should  have  wired 
at  once,  but  I  have  had  my  lady's  orders.' ' 

("  Why  in  thunder  did  n't  you  write,  Jane  ?  " 
growled  Carlysle. 

"I  forgot  to,"  pleaded  Jane.  "But  who  would 
have  dreamed  that  he  would  care  so  much  ?") 

"  '  Of  course  you  would  have  some  one  write  me  if 
you  were  ill,  would  you  not?  By  the  way,  am  I 
always  to  be  "  Mr.  Goodloe "  ?  and  you  always 
"  sincerely  "  mine  ?  No  more  than  sincerely  ?  That 
's  good  enough,  of  course ;  but  you  know,  dear,  a 
man  's  a  man,  and  sincerely  does  leave  a  good  deal 
to  the  imagination.' ' 

Carlysle  stole  a  glance  over  the  letter  at  Jane's 
face,  —  it  was  soft  with  dreams,  her  eyes  listening  to 
a  voice  in  her  heart,  which  said  the  words  there,  — 
and  passed  on  in  troubled  question  to  the  other  girl's 
face.  She,  too,  was  brooding  upon  Miss  Caruth's 
dreaming  face  with  eyes  as  hard  as  agates,  the  light 
of  dreams  upon  Jane's  face  seeming  to  spread  a 
shadow  upon  her  own. 

" '  I  don't  quite  fancy  the  idea  that  you  forgot  me 
last  week  or  were  larking  with  some  other  fellow,  so 
I  've  settled  down  on  the  theory  that  you  are  ill, 
and  I  'm  sending  you  something  to  cheer  you  up. 

-H-     113     -t- 


THE    WORLD'S    WARRANT 

The  middle  bead  —  I  guess  they  are  beads  —  has  a 
kiss  upon  it.' ' 

"  Kiss  it,  Callie  !  "  commanded  Carlysle.  "  If  I  'm 
to  superintend  this  affair,  I  mean  to  see  that  it  is  well 
done.  The  party  of  the  second  part  shall  not  be  de 
frauded  of  his  just  rights." 

"  I  'm  s'prised  at  you,  Mr.  Carlysle,"  said  Callie 
demurely.  "I  ain't  got  no  use  fur  foolishness." 

"  '  Foolishness  ! '  Hear  her,  0  Cupid  !  Into  the 
breach,  Janet !  "  And,  echoing  his  laugh,  Jane  threw 
herself  with  gay  ardor  upon  the  other  girl's  breast 
and  kissed  the  big  pearl  with  enthusiasm. 

"  It  's  a  shame,"  she  cried,  between  laughter  and 
blushes,  "  for  his  kiss  to  be  wasted  !  Callie,  you  're 
a  cold  little  puss  !  You  don't  deserve  a  good  fellow 
like  Jem  Goodloe  !  " 

"  I  never  could  do  play-actin'  befo'  folkses,"  re 
marked  Callie,  looking  a  little  bored.  "  Ain't  they 
no  more  to  the  letter  ?  " 

"  Rather  the  most  important  part,  I  should  say. 
By  the  way,  he  signs  himself,  '  Yours  for  time  and 
eternity.'  Willard  will  enjoy  that." 

"  Shucks,"  said  Callie  imperturbably. 

Carlysle  resumed  the  letter.  "  (  Upon  thinking  it 
over,  I  have  put  two  rings  into  the  box,  one  for  each 
of  us.  Think  it  over  upon  your  side,  Mary,  and  if 
you  are  sure  of  yourself  and  sure  of  me,  wear  one  and 
send  me  back  the  other.  Take  all  the  time  you  need 
to  decide ;  think  well  of  it,  and  do  not  act  unless  you 

•H-  114  H- 


LIKE    A    FATE 


mean  it,  as  I  do,  to  bind  us  both  for  time  and  eter 
nity.    Faithfully  yours,  JAMES  H.  GOODLOE.": 

Carlysle  took  the  rings,  and  with  a  certain  cere 
mony  as  of  one  resigning  a  delegated  authority 
into  the  hands  responsible  for  it,  handed  them  to 
Callie  and  stepped  back  to  his  place  upon  the  rug, 
leaving  her  alone  with  her  decision.  She  took  the 
smaller  ring  and  slipped  it  carelessly  on,  looked  at 
it  thoughtfully,  and  removed  it. 

"  I  can't  wear  it  'thout  ever'body  knowing,"  she 
said  carelessly.  "  You  keep  it  for  me,  Miss  Jane,  'n' 
th'  beads  too,  in  your  gold  box,"  -  she  glanced 
stealthily  at  the  clock  and  rose  to  go. 

"  Am  I  to  send  this  other  ring  to  Goodloe  ? " 
asked  Carlysle,  detaining  her.  "  Do  you  under 
stand?" 

"  A — w,  yes,"  easily,  "  I  'm  'ngaged  to  him." 
"  And  Willard  ?  That  must  stop  now,  you  know." 
"  I  'm  s'prised  at  you,  Mr.  Carlysle,"  said  she,  with 
calm  reproof.  "  I  don't  never  see  Mr.  Willard  —  'cept 
on  business." 

"  Where  in  the  world  do  you  suppose  this  girl 
really  came  from,  Jim  ? "  asked  Mrs.  Carlysle,  as 
they  strolled  back  to  their  room  to  dress  for  dinner, 
"  and  where  is  she  going  now  in  such  a  hurry  ?  " 

"  '  She-car-go,'  '  drawled  Carlysle,  "  as  to  the 
first ;  somewhere  to  meet  Willard  as  fast  as  her  feet 
can  carry  her,  as  to  the  second." 

-H     115     +- 


THE    WORLD'S    WARRANT 

"  I  'd  hate  to  have  anything  happen  here,"  hesi 
tated  she. 

"Nothing  will;  she  could  not  have  a  better 
sheep-dog  than  Willard.  Don't  worry." 

"  Oh  —  worry  !  You  have  n't  any  idea  that  she 
came  from  Chicago,  surely !  " 

"  She  might  have,  of  course,  though  I  think  she 
is  a  Southern  girl.  The  way  I  explain  her  "  -  they 
both  laughed —  "  well,  my  theory  fits  as  well  as  any 
other.  She  belongs  to  some  old  family  here  in  the 
South,  —  broken-down  aristocracy,  you  know,  run  to 
seed.  The  grace,  the  charm,  the  seductiveness,  are 
immutable;  can't  peter  out  —  and  she  has  them  all. 
And  for  the  rest,  my  Kate,  she 's  what  heredity  plus 
environment  has  made  her.  Fancy,  if  you  please, 
what  two  hundred  years  of  Southern  '  plantation ' 
life  would  work  out.  Don't  tease  her  about  her 
little  secret,  dear.  After  all,  what  does  it  matter 
to  us  ?  If  one  finds  a  broken-winged  bird  on  the 
ground,  one  puts  it  back  in  the  nest  and  does  not 
bother  about  its  nomenclature.  Kate,"-  —he  resumed 
the  talk  from  his  dressing-room,  —  "  does  she  ever 
speak  of  that  little  beggar  we  shunted  off  to  the 
Sisters  at  Orrville  ?  " 

"  Never." 

"  Does  she  ever  think  of  him  ?" 

"  How  should  I  know,  dear  ?  " 

"  I  can't  think  we  treated  the  little  devil  fairly." 

"  You  advised  it,  Jim." 

-4-     116     H- 


LIKE    A    FATE 


"  Oh  —  advised !  It  was  a  case  of  the  survival 
of  the  fittest.  But  if  the  baby  were  the  wise  child 
we  really  have  no  right  to  expect  him  to  be,  I  'd 
advise  him  fast  enough  to  get  himself  tucked  up 
in  a  snug  little  green  grave,  and  inaugurate  the 
Company's  new  graveyard  out  there  on  the  hill.— 
Do  my  tie  for  me,  Kate !  —  Is  n't  Janet  in  love  with 
Graeham?  Come  now,  is  n't  she?  " 

"  Mr.  Graeham  !  Why,"  with  loyal  vagueness, 
"  she  scarcely  knows  " 

"  Don't  try  that  on  with  me,  Kate  !    Is  n't  she  ?  " 

"  Mr.    Graeham,"    temporized  Kate,    "  is  a  very 
delightful  man,  /  think ;  though  he  is  a  little  - 
that  is,  one  can  see  that  he  has  not  been  accustomed 
to" 

"  I  could  n't,"  —  stoutly ;  —  "  Graeham  is  a  very 
good  sort,  with  a  head  a  mile  long."  A  busy  silence 
for  five  minutes  ;  then,  "  Kate  !  I  'm  going  to  give 
you  a  tip,  and  I  want  you  to  put  Jane  on.  Men 
have  a  confounded  way,  you  know,  dear,  of  translat 
ing  women's  relations  to  other  men  by  the  key  of 
some  other  woman's  relation  to  them.  Catch  on  ?  " 

*'  You're  a  little  Ibsenish;  but  yes,  I  think  I  know 
what  you  mean.  I  've  told  you  before  why  they  do 
it,  but  you  can't  understand.  It's  because  men  never 
can  completely  disentangle  the  individual  from  the 
sex." 

"  Graeham  has  come  some  rather  nasty  croppers 
in  the  past  with  women  ;  he  would,  you  know, — he 's 
-*  117  *- 


THE    WORLD'S    WARRANT 

that  sort.  He  gave  me  a  skit  of  those  early  experi 
ences  of  his,  that  was  rather  awful.  When  he  'd  just 
made  his  money,  you  know,  he  '  saw  life  '  for  a 
couple  of  years  —  God  knows  where  !  Wherever  it 
is  served  up  in  great,  raw  chunks  " 

"  Heavens,  Jim  !  " 

"  Well,  it  was  rank.  And  you  see  the  light  of 
that  appalling  past  of  his  will  be  worse  for  a  woman 
than  that  some  sort  of  light  that  beats  upon  some 
thing  or  other  and  blackens  every  blot.  Of  course 
Jane  has  n't  any  blots,  but  that 's  what  it  would  do 
right  along,  —  blacken  'em  if  she  had.  What  ? 
Why,  Kate,  you  're  the  blindest  little  dormouse ! 
Graeham  's  the  hardest  hit  man  I  've  seen  since  you 
bowled  me  over  !  " 


HE    KNEW    NOT    WHY 


CHAPTER  VII 

"  That  step  he  did  not  take,  he  knew  not  why,  nor  we ;  but 
only  God." 

LIFE  at  Morganton  was  put  up  in  a  rather  highly 
concentrated  form  ;  the  very  atmosphere  seeming  to 
be  charged  with  a  quality  of  unexpectedness  that, 
taken  as  a  regular  diet,  was  apt  to  react  upon  the 
nerves.  Thus,  when  Peter  Clark  opened  his  door  at 
seven  o'clock  in  the  morning  after  his  arrival,  in 
answer  to  an  imperative  rap,  and  confronted  Car- 
lysle,  with  his  hand  impatiently  upon  the  knob  and 
his  face  tense  with  repressed  excitement,  that  usually 
equable  and  always  well-mannered  young  gentle 
man's  brows  came  together  with  a  slam. 

"  What  the  deuce  has  happened  noiv  ?  "  he  de 
manded,  in  a  tone  that  matched  Carlysle's  expres 
sion.  Carlysle  wasted  no  amenities  upon  the 
occasion. 

"  Isom  Jourdan  is  dead,"  he  returned,  with  ner 
vous  brevity. 

"  And  out  of  our  way,"  supplemented  Clark, 
in  a  tone  of  profound  congratulation.  "  We  '11  put  it 
through  at  once." 

"  Not  he  !  "  —  grimly ;  —  "he  's  simply  changed 
his  base  of  operations  to  h — .  Read  that !  " 

-H-   119   4- 


THE    WORLD'S    WARRANT 

He  flung  a  paper  upon  the  table,  but  went  on 
restlessly  before  Clark  could  read  it :  — 

"  It 's  an  abstract  of  his  will.  Did  you  know  he 
had  a  daughter,  Peter  ?  " 

"  Yes."  Clark  had  returned  to  his  toilet.  "  Is 
she  the  legatee?"  The  razor  jigged  in  his  hand, 
and  he  laid  it  aside,  and  wiping  the  lather  from  his 
cheek,  flung  himself  into  a  chair. 

"  In  a  way  she  is  —  the  most  infernal  way !  It 
appears  that  this  girl,  old  Jourdan's  daughter,  is 
not  just  what  she  " 

"  I  know  ;  get  on." 

"  The  land,  barring  ten  acres  reserved  with  the 
falls,  goes  to  Carter  Cartright,  old  Jourdan's  nephew; 
the  ten  acres,  with  the  water  and  all  rights,  goes  to 
the  girl,  with  a  string  to  it.  Deathbed  reparation 
act,  it  seems," 

"  Get  on  with  it,"  demanded  Clark. 

"  On  the  condition,"  went  on  Carlysle  impres 
sively,  while  Clark  rose,  and  with  his  hand  in  his 
trousers'  pocket  walked  to  the  window,  —  "  on  the 
condition  that  she  marries  the  father  of  her  child 
within  twelve  months." 

"  Child?  "  cried  Clark,  with  a  slight  catch  in  his 
breath,  — "child!" 

"  Yes ;  I  told  you  that  she  was  not  what  she 
should  be." 

"  This  is  the  first  time  I  have  ever  heard  that 
being  a  mother  is  what  a  woman  should  not  be," 
-+  120  -K- 


HE    KNEW    NOT    WHY 

retorted  the  young  man,  in  a  voice  of  smothered 
bitterness,  still  with  his  face  to  the  open  window. 

Carlysle  flung  the  retort  from  him  with  a  ges 
ture  of  restless  indifference. 

"  What  it  comes  to,  Peter,  is  that  Isom  Jourdan 
has  offered  to  bribe  some  cur  to  marry  his  daugh 
ter,  by  putting  the  right  to  this  water  in  his  hands. 
'  Making  an  honest  woman  of  her,'  I  suppose  he 
called  it.  Jove!  But  let  that  go.  The  first  thing 
is  to  lay  our  hands  on  the  man  and  get  this  conces 
sion  from  him." 

"  Upon  her,  I  suppose  you  mean  ?  This  girl  dis 
appeared  from  Pike  County  months  ago,  and  has 
never  been  heard  from  since." 

"  A — h,"  said  Carlysle  slowly ;  and  sank  into  a 
momentary  reverie,  from  which  he  roused  himself 
presently  to  ask  carelessly,  —  "I  forget,  Peter,  if  you 
said  you  saw  this  girl  when  you  were  in  Alabama 
that  time." 

"  Yes,  I  think  I  saw  her.  A  little  country  cracker, 
with  scarlet  hair  and  freckles." 

Carlysle's  alert  attitude  relaxed  into  disgusted  re 
pose,  as  he  remarked  inappositely,  —  "  Graeham  is 
looking  into  this  deal,  too.  Wants  to  swing  it  alone, 
I  understand." 

"  Is  that  brute  still  here  ?  " 

"  Ah,  you  've  been  away.    Six  months,  is  n't  it?  " 

"  Barring  that  week  last  fall.  Miss  Caruth  's  the 
magnet,  I  suppose  ?  " 

-t-  121  H- 


THE    WORLD'S    WARRANT 

"  What  color  did  you  say  her  eyes  were,  Clark?  — 
lola  Jourdan's,  I  mean  ?  " 

"  Exactly  the  color  of  the  midnight  sky/'  re 
turned  Clark,  after  a  reluctant  pause.  Carlysle  stared 
meditatively  at  him. 

"Dark  night  or  fair?" 

"Fair,"  —  he  spoke  as  though  the  words  were 
being  wrung  from  him  under  pressure,  —  "  but  no 
moon ;  the  way  it  looks  when  you  're  alone  with  the 
night  —  and  one  other." 

"  Holy  smoke  !  "  Carlysle  reached  the  other's  side 
with  a  stride. 

"  Look  out,  Carlysle  !  I  'm  shaving,  man." 

"  You  're  a  poet,  Peter  !  By  Jove,  I  'd  no  idea  it 
was  in  you.  You  've  got  that  about  her  eyes  down 
pretty  fine,  eh  ?  " 

"  Get  out,"  mumbled  Clark,  behind  his  poised 
razor,  and  Carlysle  obeyed  without  further  parley. 

Certain  natures  seem  fitted  with  special  organs  to 
attract  and  assimilate  the  infinitesimal  filaments 
cast  off  from  personality  :  the  impalpable  dust  of 
character  that  floats,  invisible  to  the  normal  vision, 
in  the  atmosphere  of  social  life ;  a  fleeting  glance 
from  unconscious  eyes ;  a  half  tone  too  much  or  too 
little ;  a  musing  smile  behind  a  friend's  back  momen 
tarily  turned ;  the  passage  of  a  troubled  thought 
across  a  brow  ;  a  neglected  meal ;  a  step  that  lags,  or 
one  that  goes  more  blithely  than  its  wont  to  meet 
-H-  122  ^ 


HE    KNEW    NOT    WHY 

another  —  this  is  the  aliment  from  which  such  na 
tures  as  Gallic  Larkin's  secrete  suspicion,  which  in 
time  will  generate  energy  and  direct  action.  Gallic 
had  shaped  no  course  of  action.  Action  in  women 
of  her  type  nearly  always  results  from  some  such 
untraceahle  process  of  unconscious  cerebration  as 
had  been  set  in  motion  by  the  torn  envelope  upon 
Graeham's  floor. 

But  she  knew  what  she  wanted,  and  she  went  to 
ward  it  guided  by  an  instinct  as  unerring  as  that  of 
the  sea-anemone,  when  it  separates  its  food  by  un 
conscious  selection  from  the  ocean  currents  about  it. 

In  the  stress  of  her  uncertainty  she  had  bethought 
her  of  Willard,  mainly  because  she  was  secure  of  her 
power  over  him,  that  would  enable  her  to  withhold 
her  confidence,  even  while  she  coaxed  an  explanation 
of  certain  practical  difficulties  that  confronted  her, 
as  she  followed  the  impalpable  thread  of  her  intui 
tion  through  the  no-thoroughfares  of  feminine  rea 
son  to  her  conclusion. 

She  ignored  the  formality  of  a  knock  and  entered 
Willard's  office,  which  was  divided  from  the  foyer 
only  by  a  lattice  and  curtain,  with  soft  assurance, 
amply  justified  by  the  magic  with  which  the  young 
manager's  impatient  frown  smoothed  itself  at  sight 
of  his  visitor.  Mindful  of  the  quick  ears  upon  the 
other  side  of  the  lattice,  Willard  did  not  speak ;  but, 
curving  his  arm,  held  it  out  in  silent  invitation  to 

O  * 

her.    Callie  ignored  the  invitation  and  intrenched 

-H.  123   -K- 


THE    WORLD'S    WARRANT 

herself  behind  the  desk,  meeting  Willard's  eyes  from 
under  her  lowered  lashes  with  a  teasing  smile. 

O 

"  You  're  a  mean  girl,"  said  Willard ;  "  see  if  I 
don't  pay  you  out." 

"  I  ain't  skeer  uv  you,"  she  informed  him  serenely. 

"You  'd  better  be,"  retorted  Willard,  with  a  grin 
of  adoration.  "  I  'm  your  boss,  I  '11  give  you  to 
understand." 

"  Pooh ! "  said  she ;  and,  leaning  forward,  powdered 
his  face  daintily  with  a  carnation  for  a  powder 
puff. 

"  What  do  you  want? "  inquired  he,  distinctly 
softened  by  this  attention.  "  I  know  you  too  well, 
you  little  fraud,  to  think  I  'm  getting  all  this  for 
nothing." 

"  I  wanter  ax  you  somethin'.  " 

"  This  is  not  my  day  for  giving  away  valuable 
information  —  for  nothing." 

"  Supposin'  you  wait  ontel  you  air  axed  to  give 
it  away  fur  nothin',"  she  retorted,  with  drawling 
impertinence,  calmly  watching,  as  a  surgeon  might 
watch  the  effect  of  an  anaesthetic,  its  effect  upon 
Willard,  whose  shrewd,  rather  hard  face  brooded 
upon  her  as  a  mother's  might  almost,  with  tender 
toleration. 

He  held  up  two  fingers  with  mischievous  signifi 
cance  and  determined  aspect ;  Gallic  shook  her  head, 
and  in  turn  held  up  one  of  her  own  with  a  thumb 
laid  against  it,  reducing  it  to  a  fraction.  Willard 
-H-  124  i- 


HE    KNEW    NOT    WHY 

returned  to  his  papers  with  an  air  of  having  closed 
negotiations. 

"  Hello,  Clark,"  said  Graeham's  voice,  in  the  lobby 
at  their  backs;  "  how  is  it  East?  " 

Two  steps  approached  each  other,  there  was  a 
sound  vaguely  indicative  of  hands  shaken,  then 
Clark's  voice. 

"  Rotten.  No  better  here.  Snow  in  this  climate 
is  an  absurdity." 

"  Mud,  you  mean,"  amended  Graeham.  The  sput 
ter  of  a  match  filled  in  the  pause. 

"  I  hear  you  are  in  for  the  Chinquepin  option  ?  " 
said  Clark. 

"  It  looks  that  way.  Of  course,  no  one  can  do 
anything  until  the  heir  shows  up.  Where  the  deuce 
can  this  lola  Jourdan  have  got  herself?  " 

"Who  air  they  talkin'  erbout?"  whispered  Gallic, 
in  Willard's  ear. 

"Oh,  —  just  a  country  girl  down  the  river.  Her 
father  's  died  and  left  her  a  chunk  of  stuff,  and  she 
has  n't  showed  up  to  get  it ;  that  's  all." 

She  gazed  at  him  with  slowly  dilating  eyes  and 
lips  apart. 

"  Tell  me  th'  rest,"  her  lips  formed  dumbly. 
Willard  looked  a  trifle  uncomfortable. 

"  It  is  n't  exactly  money,  you  know ;  he  left  her 
some  land  with  a  waterfall  on  it,  and  those  fellows," 
he  motioned  backward  to  the  lobby,  "  a  whole  bunch 
of  fellows  here,  want  to  get  it  from  her ;  that 's  all." 

-H-   125   -^ 


THE    WORLD'S    WARRANT 

"  Of  course,  it  's  touch  and  go,  with  a  condition 
like  that,"  —  a  blunt  laugh  which  Clark  joined 
languidly.  "  Women  are  kittle-cattle !  But  old 
Jourdan  plainly  knew  his  man.  He  has  offered  him 
a  thumping  bribe  to  marry  the  girl.  Oh,  —  no  doubt ; 
a  gentleman,  or  a  skunk,  or  he  would  n't  have  fixed 
it  that  way." 

"What  does  he  mean  by  that?"  whispered  the 
girl  inside.  Willard  flushed. 

"  It 's  too  long  to  explain.  Well,  she,  —  this  lola 
Jourdan  —  why,  the  fact  is,  she  is  not  the  sort  of 
woman  for  you  to  know  about." 

"Go  on!"  —she  shook  him  impatiently.  Willard 
smiled  teasingly  and  held  up  his  two  fingers  again  ; 
this  time  she  nodded  impatiently,  and  he  whispered 
the  story  as  it  was  known  about  the  hotel,  the  girl's 
face  growing  sharp  in  the  intensity  of  her  interest. 

"  Oh,  —  of  course,  voluntary,"  went  on  Graeham, 
in  the  lobby;  "but  it  is  hardly  conceivable  that  she 
wrill  refuse  under  the  circumstances,  —  unless  she 
wanted  to  even  up  with  him.  What  a  revenge  it 
would  be  !  To  keep  a  man  out  of  a  good  thing  like 
this  to  pay  him  out,  you  know.  True ;  but  she 
might  not  care  for  the  money.  I  can  imagine  a 
woman  doing  a  thing  like  that,  can't  you?" 

"  You  should  write  a  play,  Graeham,"  said  Clark 
coldly.  "  Such  a  situation  should  not  be  wasted." 

On  the  other  side  of  the  curtain,  Willard  was  de 
manding  payment  for  his  story.  Callie  offered  him 

•H.   126  +- 


HE    KNEW    NOT    WHY 

the  finger  she  had  held  up  to  kiss.  Willard  declined 
to  compromise,  with  scorn ;  showed  a  determination 
to  enforce  his  contract. 

"  I  'm  s' prised  at  you,  Mr.  Willard,"  she  reproved 
him  demurely.  "  You  do  act  so  strange  sometimes." 

But  she  came  within  easy  reach  of  his  arm,  and 
took  down  a  key  from  the  long  line  that  hung  above 
his  desk.  Willard's  face  clouded  with  denial. 

"  No  ;  I  've  told  you  a  dozen  times  you  cannot 
have  a  pass-key." 

Gallic  put  the  key  into  her  pocket.  "  I  'm  in  ear 
nest,"  said  Willard.  "  Give  it  here  !  " 

She  held  up  one  rosy  finger.  "  No,"  said  he  firmly. 
"  It  's  against  the  rules." 

Callie  added  another  finger,  and  Willard  wavered  ; 
she  leaned  coaxingly  upon  his  chair. 

"  I  'm  doing  it  for  your  sake,  to  keep  you  out  of 
trouble,"  he  told  her  gently.  She  leaned  nearer  to 
him,  turned  his  face  toward  her  with  a  finger  under 
his  chin,  and  Willard  succumbed.  She  carried  off 
the  key. 

"  You  might  as  well  sign  the  pay-roll  while  you 
are  here,"  he  called  after  her,  with  unsuccessful  stern 
ness,  intended  to  cover  his  recent  yielding.  Callie 
came  back  with  alacrity.  Signing  the  pay-roll  was  a 
great  occasion,  which  Willard  seemed  also  to  enjoy. 
Various  preliminaries,  not  usually  considered  neces 
sary  to  that  simple  piece  of  business,  were  gone 
through.  First,  Callie  took  off  her  cuff  and  turned 
-i-  127  H- 


THE    WORLD'S    WARRANT 

up  her  sleeve,  and,  having  accepted  a  portion  of 
Willard's  chair,  grasped  the  pen  firmly,  bunching  all 
her  fingers  about  its  tip,  while  Willard  looked  on 
with  a  smile.  But  his  part  of  the  programme  being 
reached  here,  he  proceeded  to  enclose  both  hand  and 
pen  in  his  own  fist,  and  the  signature  at  last  got  under 
way;  the  girl's  cap  against  Willard's  wholesome 
cheek,  her  lip  bitten  in  the  excitement  of  the  strokes. 
"  That  's  not  the  way  to  start  off,"  he  admonished 
her,  as  she  faintly  resisted  his  effort  to  begin.  "Are 
n't  you  ever  going  to  learn  to  make  a  capital  C  ?  It 
slews  round  like  this  —  so.  You  always  try  to  beat 
me  into  making  an  I." 

The  snowstorm  was  still  raging  with  picturesque 
fury  when  Miss  Caruth  emerged  into  the  empty 
streets  for  her  walk.  Great  sheets  of  snow  were 
whirled  upon  a  wind  as  soft  and  buoyant  as  April's, 
with  an  effect  distinctly  spectacular,  the  snow  seem 
ing  to  be  painted  upon  the  dun  sky,  and  somewhat 
overdone  in  point  of  vehemence. 

The  cold,  fragrant  air  was  intensely  exhilarating; 
and  as  Miss  Caruth  made  her  way  along  the  drip 
ping  streets  to  the  post  office,  she  had  a  joyous  sense 
of  companionship  with  the  blustering  freshness  of 
the  day,  of  being  arm  in  arm  with  the  roistering 
young  wind,  making  an  afternoon  of  it.  She  sent  a 
glance  back  from  shelter  of  the  post-office  door, 
full  of  gay  promise  of  a  later  meeting  in  the  fields 


beyond,  almost  liidden  beneath  the  swarms  of  white 
bees  whirling  there.  As  her  hand  touched  the  door 
the  spring  slackened,  as  some  one  grasped  it  from 
within,  and  Graeham' s  tall  figure  filled  the  opening. 
He  glanced  quickly  past  Miss  Caruth  to  the  empty 
street. 

"  Who  was  that  glance  for  ?  "  he  asked  bluntly,  as 
he  lifted  his  hat.  Out  of  the  semi-gloom  within  the 
building,  the  girl's  face  shone  upon  him,  delicately 
fair  and  vital,  between  the  richness  of  her  furs  and 
the  indefinite  softness  of  her  dark  hat,  like  the 
purely  tinted,  hardy  blossoms  that  dare  the  buffet 
ing  of  the  early  spring  gales.  She  was  so  intensely 
alive,  so  slenderly,  buoyantly  strong,  that  Graeham 
recalled  his  first  impression  of  her,  as  a  delicate  steel 
coil  with  a  current  through  it. 

"A  friend,"  she  explained  suavely,  in  reply  to 
Graeham's  question ;  "  such  a  dear,  jolly  fellow  !  " 

Graeham' s  stolid  face  altered  by  a  shade,  and  his 
glance  along  the  empty  street  steadied  into  keen 
ness,  just  tinged  with  jealous  gloom.  He  half 
raised  his  hat  as  though  to  leave  her,  hesitated, 
glanced  without  again,  as  if  debating  the  other  man's 
possible  defection,  and  finally  turned  back  at  her 
side. 

"  Hold  these,  please,"  commanded  Miss  Caruth, 

handing  him  one  by  one  the  contents  of  her  muff, 

which  she  was  dislodging  in  her  search  for  the  letter 

she  had  come  to  post.    A  long,  limp  purse,  made 

-*  129  ^ 


THE    WORLD'S    WARRANT 

of  silver  scales,  that  slipped  through  Graeham's 
hands  like  a  water-serpent,  was  followed  by  a  small, 
much  inflated  package,  that  he  wonderingly  decided 
must  contain  compressed  air ;  a  pair  of  long  crum 
pled  kid  gloves,  that  felt  like  rose-leaves  and  were 
delicately  redolent  of  violets,  came  next,  and  at  last 
the  letter. 

Graeham  had  followed  the  progress  of  the  search 
with  amused  eyes,  and  he  glanced  carelessly  at  the 
letter  she  held  aloft  in  triumph.  It  was  too  dark  to 
decipher  the  writing,  but  the  mere  externals  of  the 
letter  gave  it  a  personality  so  distinct  as  to  cause 
him  an  odd  shock.  The  size  and  shape  of  the  pale 
gray  envelope,  crossed  by  three  lines  of  level  writ 
ing,  the  double  stamp,  the  faint  odor  of  violets 
that  exhaled  from  it,  were  thrillingly  familiar.  Each 
detail  had  been  studied  over  and  over,  and  each  had 
contributed  its  intangible  item  toward  the  image  of 
the  woman  who  had  written  the  ones  at  that  moment 
locked  in  his  letter-case  a  block  away. 

In  the  stress  of  his  amazement,  Graeham  walked 
mechanically  at  Miss  Caruth's  side  from  the  building. 
A  turmoil  of  thoughts  was  rushing  through  his 
mind,  from  which  he  gained  but  two  clear  impres 
sions, —  an  incredulous,  excited  joy,  breathless  and 
tumultuous,  and  a  doubt  that  his  will  kept  resolutely 
at  bay. 

They  were  well  out  into  the  snowy  fields  before 
he  had  succeeded  in  wrenching  his  mind  from  its 

-H.  130  H- 


HE    KNEW    NOT    WHY 

preoccupation.  He  stopped  in  the  middle  of  the 
snowy  road,  and  stood  looking  down  into  Jane's  eyes 
with  whimsical  directness. 

"  Where  's  that  fellow  you  told  to  wait  ?  " 

Miss  Caruth  gave  a  soft,  rallying  laugh.  "  I  was 
rather  wondering,  myself.  Do  you  know,  Mr.  Grae- 
ham,  your  subliminal  self  is  a  very  rude  person  ? 
He  deserted  me  at  the  post-office  door,  without  so 
much  as  a  tip  of  the  hat.  Does  your  astral  wear  a 
hat?" 

"  Brute  !  "  commented  Graeham,  still  a  bit  lost 
and  shaken ;  "  I  '11  kick  him  when  he  gets  back." 

"  Oh,  he 's  back !  He  got  back  a  bit  ago.  Where 
had  he  wandered  off  to?" 

"  Perhaps  in  search  of  your  subliminal  self,"  said 
he,  with  a  long  grave  look  into  her  eyes,  that  gave 
Miss  Caruth  pause,  mentally,  but  she  covered  it  with 
a  laughing  glance  of  approval. 

"  That  does  fairly  well !  I  shall  have  to  forgive 
him,  after  all.  But  I  was  a  little  vexed  with  him, 
because  the  other  poor  fellow  —  the  every-day  self 
he  left  behind — was  so  troubled  about  something. 
I  wanted  dreadfully  to  straighten  things  out  for 
him." 

Jane  was  a  little  breathless  and  shy  at  the  end  of 
her  sentence,  much  to  her  own  surprise,  and  a  tinge 
of  color  showed  in  Graeham's  cheek  as  he  looked 
down  into  the  eyes  she  disdained  to  lower. 

"  That 's  awfully  good  of  you.    He  was  a  bit  lost 

-f    131     +- 


THE    WORLD'S    WARRANT 

—  he  's  rather  a  dull  chap,  you  know.  Would  you 
really  help  him  to  find  himself  if  he  should  lose 
out?" 

"Yes." 

"  Even  if  you  knew  it  was  his  own  cock-sure  folly 
that  had  lost  him  the  way  to  —  happiness?" 

"  All  the  more." 

They  walked  on  without  speaking,  pausing  some 
times  while  Graeham  brought  her  a  seed-pod  from 
the  roadside,  whose  fairy  whorl  was  delicately  pow 
dered  with  diamond  dust,  or  a  plume  of  grasses 
bearded  with  snow.  Once,  as  he  rejoined  Jane,  Grae 
ham' s  eyes  were  caught  by  their  two  footprints  side 
by  side  in  the  snowy  road,  Jane's  slim  tracks  beside 
his  own  deeply  trodden  ones;  and  the  sight  had 
waked  a  rebellious  throb  in  the  man  —  a  hungry 
yearning,  that  shook  to  its  foundation  the  bulwark 
he  had  been  spending  himself  for  weeks  to  erect 
between  them. 

"  Are  we  heading  for  the  river  ?  "  he  asked,  as 
they  breasted  a  slight  rise  in  the  road. 

"  Yes  ;  I  want  to  see  how  it  looks  to-day.  When 
the  fields  are  green,  it  is  blue ;  and  when  they  are 
brown,  it  is  gray;  and  now,  all  veiled  in  white"  — 

"  It  is  green,"  announced  Graeham,  his  height 
enabling  him  to  see  beyond  the  rise  that  hid  the 
river  from  Miss  Caruth.  She  turned  her  eyes  with 
veiled  reproach  upon  him,  and  an  absurd  tremor  of 
remorseful  pain  shot  through  Graeham,  even  while  he 
-.-  132  +- 


HE    KNEW    NOT    WHY 

struggled  perplexedly  to  divine  its  cause,  half  sus 
pecting  a  trap,  that  the  delicious  suggestion  in  her 
glance  might  melt  into  a  delicately  mocking  smile 
and  a  speculative  glance,  which  said,  "  How  could 
you  think  I  meant  it ! " 

"  1  should  n't  have  looked  if  you  could  n't  see," 
she  vouchsafed  him  at  last  in  a  murmur,  her  eyes 
turned  away  from  him,  skimming  the  white  fields, 
and  her  chin  a  trifle  elevated.  A  reflection  of  in 
ward  humor  was  in  the  smile  that  bent  Graeham's 
lips. 

"By  George!"  he  confided  to  himself;  "if  I  have 
n't  come  to  a  pretty  pass,  to  he  yanked  about  by  a 
girl  like  this." 

Miss  Caruth  appealed,  as  no  other  woman  had  ever 
appealed,  to  both  sides  of  Graeham  at  once;  and  he 
was  conscious,  as  he  looked  down  upon  her,  of  an 
almost  poignant  delight  in  her.  She  appealed  to  the 
original  man,  with  a  few  vital  elements  of  charac 
ter,  strong  and  simple ;  whose  ideal  was  the  fiercely 
fastidious,  "pure  as  snow,  chaste  as  ice"  conception, 
before  which  men  of  his  intensely  virile  type  inva 
riably  prostrate  themselves  mentally,  no  matter  how 
frankly  they  may  hunger  with  the  rest  of  them 
for  the  satisfying  warmth  of  the  woman  who  is 
flesh  of  their  flesh  and  bone  of  their  bone.  But  she 
made  a  yet  more  powerful  appeal  to  the  "made" 
side  of  him,  with  its  more  complex  needs,  developed 
by  his  contact  with  the  world  in  his  later  years.  Her 
-+  133  H- 


manner  to  him,  frank,  and  coolly  unattached,  flat 
tered  and  chafed  him  by  turns ;  her  exquisite  re 
serves,  that  he  could  not  interpret,  baffled  him  and 
drew  him  on  ;  he  found  her  reticences,  whose  mean 
ings  he  could  only  guess,  more  piquantly  provoca 
tive  than  any  imagined  witchery  of  another  Avoman ; 
her  mind,  reflecting  in  every  turn  a  life  perfectly 
foreign  to  his  own,  stimulated  his  more  slowly  mov 
ing  mental  machinery  ;  and  her  brilliant  impersonal 
polish,  which  held  him  off,  even  in  the  moments 
when  he  could  discern  a  bewildering  response  to 
him  beneath  it,  piqued  him,  and  made  him  feel 
like  a  lad  again,  hot  and  raw  and  restive.  The 
consciousness,  too,  that  Miss  Caruth  regarded  him 
as  an  episode  in  her  life,  rather  than  a  force  that 
might  dominate  it,  roused  his  combativeness,  and  sup 
plied  the  last  element  of  fascination  in  Graeham's 
conquest. 

With  the  keenness  of  perception  that  had  made  so 
largely  for  his  success  in  business,  he  realized  that 
the  exquisite  quality  of  her  charm  for  him  lay  in  its 
evanescence.  Here,  in  lovely  concrete  form,  was  the 
thing  he  had  followed  all  his  man's  life,  as  a  man 
might  track  an  unknown  flower  by  its  perfume;  and 
the  lack  of  which  in  women  bad,  time  and  time 
again,  thrown  him  back  upon  himself  in  flat  dis 
illusionment  and  fastidious  distaste.  Oddly  enough, 
the  elusiveness  of  the  charm  was  the  rivet  that  fas 
tened  his  chains  upon  Graeham  —  the  same  half-seen, 
-+  134  +- 


HE    KNEW    NOT    WHY 

half-dreamed,  and  wholly  fleeting  thing  that  had  so 
charmed  him  in  Mary  Meadows's  letters,  and  had 
sent  him  upon  his  headlong  quest  in  search  of  her. 

"  I  only  caught  a  glimpse,"  he  replied  finally,  to 
Miss  Caruth's  challenge;   "but  I  see  now  it  was  a 
bit  selfish.    Forgive  me,  won't  you  ?    You  see " 
his  tone  made  a  whimsical  appeal  for  sympathy  — 
"  when  a  fellow  has  to  stumble  along,  with  no  one 
to  give  him  a  tip  " 

"  And  all  in  the  dark,  too,"  supplemented  Jane 
gravely ;  "  for  you  remember  the  game  is  not 
worth  the  candle  !  " 

Graeham  pondered  this  retort  in  silence.  He  had 
a  man-like  sense  of  the  validity  of  the  last  contract, 
and  he  had  supposed  that  the  agreement  he  and  Miss 
Caruth  had  reached  upon  that  first  ride  together 
had  invalidated  his  previous  confidences;  and  this 
doubling  back  upon  her  part  to  a  position  from 
which  he  had  voluntarily  receded,  rather  lost  Grae 
ham  his  feet. 

"  But  I  thought  we  were  friends,  world  without 
end,  for  time  and  eternity  ?  " 

Miss  Caruth  met  his  earnest  frown  serenely.  "  So 
we  are  !  " 

Graeham  gave  it  up.  "  You  can  see  the  river  from 
the  fence,"  said  he,  humbly  retracing  his  steps  to  the 
tangible  offense  for  which  he  could  make  amends; 
"  and  it  is  very  wet  nearer  the  bank." 

He  shifted  the  rails  into  a  rude  seat  as  he  spoke, 
-H-  135  -t- 


THE    WORLD'S    WARRANT 

and,  brushing  them  clear  of  snow,  turned  back  to 
assist  her.  Miss  Caruth  extended  her  hand  ab 
sently,  her  eyes  busied  meanwhile  in  selecting  a 
comfortably  jutting  rail  to  ascend  by.  Graeham 
ignored  her  hand,  and  before  she  could  divine  his 
intention  had  lifted  her,  quite  as  a  matter  of  course, 
in  his  arms,  and  seated  her  easily  in  the  crotch  of  the 
fence.  Silence  followed  Miss  Caruth's  involuntary 
gasp  of  dismay,  a  silence  that  grew  more  strained 
with  every  heart-beat  that  lengthened  it. 

From  her  elevated  seat  Jane  could  see  the  river,  a 
streak  of  dull  jade  between  the  white  fields;  and 
with  her  muff  interposed  between  her  face  and  Grae 
ham,  who  leaned  in  miserable  silence  beside  her,  she 
gazed  steadily  at  it.  Graeham  broke  the  silence 
resolutely,  and  a  trifle  stiffly,  at  last. 

"  I  told  you,  Miss  Caruth,  what  a  wretched  dolt  I 
am  about  women.  It  comes  so  naturally  to  a  man," 
he  went  on  in  troubled  argument,  "  to  do  these  little 
things  for  a  woman." 

Miss  Caruth  turned  further  from  him,  with  a 
gesture  of  restrained  coldness.  She  had  a  confused 
sense  of  having  heard  the  words  somewhere  before, 
a  bewildering  consciousness  of  being  on  Graeham's 
side,  in  spite  of  her  anger. 

"  I   am    sure   you  meant  only  to  be  kind,   Mr. 

Graeham,"  she  said  evenly.   Graeham  brushed  aside 

her  concession  with  an  impatient  earnestness,  that 

gave  it  a  slightly  tinny  sound,  even  to  her  own  ears. 

-i-  136  +- 


HE    KNEW    NOT    WHY 

"  Tell  me,  will  you  not,  why  you  were  so  vexed 
by  a  perfectly  natural  act  upon  my  part  ?  " 

"  Oh,"  cried  Miss  Caruth,  "  why  are  you  so  — 
difficult?  Surely  you  know  —  you  must  know,  that 
what  you  did  was  grossest  rudeness ! "  Graeham 
stared  moodily  at  the  river,  a  flush  mounting  to  his 
forehead. 

"  I  did  not  know,"  he  said  at  last  simply,  and 
after  a  moment  of  struggle ;  "  I  warned  you  that  I 
did  not  know  the  rules  of  the  game  as  you  play  it. 
I  suppose,"  he  added,  more  to  himself  than  to  her, 
"  I  suppose  I  'd  best  chuck  it  up." 

"  I  thought  we  were  friends,  '  world  without 
end?'  "  suggested  she  smoothly,  her  face  still  turned 
from  him;  but  the  barrier  of  the  big  muff  lowered, 
so  that  had  Graeham  looked  he  could  have  seen  the 
curve  of  her  cheek  and  a  slight  tremor  of  Jane's 
delicate,  wide  lips.  But  Graeham  did  not  look;  he 
said  stiffly  instead,  — 

"  That  is  with  you,  Miss  Caruth." 

"  Then  —  will  you  listen  to  me  a  moment,  Mr. 
Graeham,  as  if  I  were  a  man  friend,  you  know, 
giving  you  a  tip  about  —  oh,  about  something  that 
he  knew  all  about,  and  you  knew  very  little  ? " 
Graeham  turned  back,  and,  leaning  his  arm  upon 
the  rails,  faced  her  in  attentive  silence.  "  In  society, 
you  know,  Mr.  Graeham,  —  we  '11  call  it  my  game, 
if  you  like,  —  in  society,  people  do  not  do  things 
because  they  are  natural ;  no  one  dreams  of  being 

-H-   137   -K- 


natural,  ever !  They  could  n't  be ;  it  would  not  be 
tolerated  ;  naturalness  is  social  outlawry.  No  !  you 
would  not !  Society  is  one  game  whose  rules  no 
one  questions,  —  or  questions  successfully ;  one  obeys 
them,  you  know,  whether  they  like  it  or  no ;  obedi 
ence  is  one's  raison  cV  etre,  socially.  You  do  not 
even  exist  —  you  are  not  born  —  until  you  know  its 
ritual,  and  are  prepared  to  do  it  reverence.  So  you 
see  ?  "  Jane  wound  up,  with  lucid  eloquence. 

"  I  see  ! "  said  he,  with  a  quick  smile  of  pleasure 
in  the  girl  who  lectured  him  with  sweet  didacticism, 
but  whose  eyes  under  wavering  lashes  could  not  meet 
his  own,  though  his  eyes  shone  with  satirical  humor. 
"  What  rot,"  he  went  on  bluntly,  "  to  corral  men 
and  women  behind  a  lot  of  nasty  little  rules  —  like 
broken  bottles  on  top  of  a  wall  —  when  there's  all 
of  life  outside  to  live  !  Should  n't  you  like  it  better 
outside?" 

"  I  don't  know  ;  I  've  always  been  inside." 

"  But  if  a  fellow  were  lucky  enough  to  be  already 
on  the  outside,  he  'd  better  stop  there,  should  n't  you 
think?" 

"  Unless  there  was  something  on  the  inside  that 
—  that  he  wanted  very  much,"  replied  Miss  Caruth, 
from  the  shelter  of  the  muff. 

Silence  again  ;  the  snow  had  settled  in  drifts  upon 
Graeham's  shoulders  and  powdered  Miss  Caruth's 
furs. 

"  How  does  one  get  inside  ?  "  asked  Graeham,  the 
-i-  138  •)- 


HE    KNEW    NOT    WHY 

words  coming  in  a  rush,  as  if  crowded  in  between 
two  heart-beats. 

"  The  tame  ones,  already  inside,  show  them  the 
way."  They  were  both  smiling. 

"  Will  you  show  me  ?  " 

"  Yes.  The  first  thing  is  to  dress  for  dinner  ! 
A  dinner  coat  creates  the  correct  atmosphere ;  it 
modifies  the  individual  aura;  it  is  the  outward  and 
visible  sign  of  the  grace  of  artificiality,  that  one 
must  acquire." 

"  I  've  been  made  game  of  before,  thank  you,"  in 
terrupted  Graeham  coolly.  "I  'm  pretty  well  up,  so 
you  need  not  bother." 

"  That  's  not  bad,"  returned  Jane  critically;  "  the 
tone  was  particularly  good.  Oh,  there  's  one  thing, 
before  I  forget  it.  With  women,  you  know  —  ignore 
them  more ;  the  best  manner  for  a  man,  at  least 
a  very  effective  manner,  is  to  hardly  ever  look  at  a 
woman,  or  listen  to  anything  she  says." 

"  Jove  ! "  pondered  Graeham,  in  profound  amaze 
ment.  "  That 's  a  new  tip  !  No  wonder  I  've  always 
lost  out.  What  is  next  ?  " 

"  Home  !  "  cried  Jane  gayly,  and  not  waiting  for 
his  aid,  sprang  down  and  turned  homeward. 


THE    WORLD'S    WARRANT 


CHAPTER   VIII 

"  But  who  could  have  expected  this  when  we  two  drew  together 

first, 
Just  for  the  obvious  human  bliss,  to  satisfy  life's  daily  thirst 

with  a  thing  men  seldom  miss  ?  " 

"  WHAT  nonsense  poets  and  socialists  and  people 
of  that  sort  talk,  about  uplifting  the  race  and  er  — 
things  of  that  sort,"  murmured  Mrs.  Carlysle  reflec 
tively,  at  dinner  a  few  nights  later,  "  when  every  one 
knows  perfectly  that  the  only  thing  that  ever  really 
elevates  a  man  is  dress  clothes  ! "  She  looked  pen 
sively  at  Graeham's  stalwart  figure,  immaculately 
transfigured.  "  See  how  softened,  chastened,  elevated, 
Mr.  Graeham  is  in  a  dinner  coat." 

"  Graeham  always  looks  '  chastened '  when  he  's 
getting  ready  to  smash  up  somebody's  deal,"  ad 
vanced  Carlysle,  a  little  moodily,  though  he  nodded 
cheerfully  to  Graeham,  who  nodded  back.  He 
seemed  preoccupied  and,  as  Miss  Caruth  thought, 
stealing  a  glance  at  him,  stern.  He  did  not  look 
their  way  again,  and  in  the  middle  of  dinner  rose 
and,  still  wearing  his  air  of  stern  abstraction,  left  the 
room. 

"  That  reminds  me,  girls,"  said  Carlysle,  touching 
earth  after  a  mental  parabola ;  "  Graeham  will  drop 
-i-  140  -i- 


in  to-night,  and  Clark  is  bringing  Colonel  De  Resett 
up.  We  are  all  the  best  of  friends,  you  know? 
This  Chinquepin  matter  is  entirely  outside  of  per 
sonal  relations,  eh  ?  " 

"  Of  course,  dear  ;  but  I  do  think  "  — 

Carlysle  found  his  wife's  hand,  under  the  table, 
and  folded  it  in  his  own. 

"  Naturally !  But  I  must  confess,  it  is  not  so  plain 
to  me  how  Jane  is  going  to  divide  up.  You  '11  have 
to  do  some  clever  hedging  between  our  company  and 
Graeham's." 

Miss  Caruth  declined  to  commit  herself  beyond 
a  smile,  that  flouted  daintily  his  suggestion  of  hedg 
ing. 

But,  spite  of  his  politic  hint,  it  was  plain  to  Car 
lysle,  Avhen  he  entered  his  wife's  reception  room  later 
in  the  evening,  that  a  division  had  been  called,  and 
two  hostile  camps,  Clark's  and  Graeham's,  already 
established.  A  half-dozen  women  were  present,  and 
the  usual  relays  of  men  dropping  in  through  the 
evening. 

The  rival  companies,  Chinquepin  and  old  Jourdan's 
missing  heir,  held  the  stage,  to  the  exclusion  of 
every  other  subject.  Surmise,  conjecture,  and  pro 
phesies,  friendly  tips  and  hostile  warnings,  jostled 
each  other  as  they  flew  from  lip  to'  lip  ;  the  women 
discussing  the  organization  of  the  companies,  with  a 
mastery  of  technique  and  an  amazing  fluency  of 
detail,  that  amused  the  men  present,  no  less 
-+  141  -t- 


their  sudden  elisions  and  hasty  improvisations  when 
the  talk  veered  round  to  the  unvarnished  conditions 
of  the  old  man's  will. 

Graeham  had  entered  the  field  as  a  free  lance 
against  the  Development  Company,  and  what  that 
Company  chose  to  call  its  "  prior  claim."  And  as 
each  day  narrowed  the  circle  of  possibilities,  —  for 
sooner  or  later  the  girl  must  be  located,  —  the  com 
petition  between  Graeham  and  the  Development 
Company  grew  keener,  and  the  efforts  of  each  more 
strenuous  to  solve  the  silence  of  the  girl  at  whose 
door  fortune  was  pounding  so  imperatively. 

Graeham  was  not  present ;  he  sat  in  his  sitting- 
room,  a  dozen  doors  away,  Avrapped  in  a  surly  reverie. 
His  mood  was  as  bleak  as  an  east  wind ;  and  his 
eyes,  resting  upon  an  open  ring-box  upon  the  table, 
wherein  lay  a  gentleman's  engagement  ring  set 
round  with  diamonds,  were  hard  with  thought  and 
dogged  with  resolution.  A  pile  of  letters,  worn  as 
from  many  readings,  lay  at  his  elbow.  He  opened 
one,  handling  it  with  a  gentle  coldness,  whose  un 
conscious  revelation  brought  a  touch  of  irony  to 
his  lips,  and  read  it  through.  It  was  a  mere  note, 
beginning  with  grave  formality,  that  lapsed  naively 
into  girlishness  as  it  went  on.  Graeham's  hard 
glance  softened  as  he  read.  How  fascinating  he 
had  thought  them  but  a  short  time  before !  How 
bewitching  the  frank  comradeship  of  the  later  ones  ! 
how  pure  and  unaccustomed  the  note  that  breathed 
-+  142  i- 


LIFE'S    DAILY    THIRST 

from  them  all !  Their  delicate  charm  had  been  proof 
against  that  most  implacable  test,  —  the  lack-lustre 
eyes  of  a  man's  dead  fancy.  Yet,  even  while  he 
noted  the  permanence  of  their  charm,  Graeham  was 
flatly  conscious  of  his  own  detachment  when  opposed 
to  the  palpitating  reality  of  a  woman's  presence ; 
Jane's  glance  that  his  own  absorbed,  the  color  in 
her  cheek  that  sprang  to  meet  him,  before  her  eyes 
had  fairly  claimed  him. 

What  reckless  insanity  the  whole  thing  had  been, 
as  he  saw  it  now  !  He  had  chased  a  shadow,  and  it 
had  turned  and  grappled  him,  fastened  upon  him 
with  a  grip  he  could  not  shake  off ;  the  delicate 
charm  of  the  romance  had  turned  into  steel  coils 
about  him.  He  had  bound  this  unknown  woman 
to  him  by  his  own  voluntary  act ;  nay,  he  had 
pursued  her,  wooed  her,  spent  months  in  a  delib 
erate,  well-considered  attempt  to  find  her  and,  him 
self  unknown,  test  the  permanence  of  her  charm  for 
him.  He  had  even  gone  the  full  length  of  madness 
in  believing  in  her,  and,  drawn  on  by  the  intrinsic 
purity  that  breathed  from  her  letters,  had  engaged 
himself  to  marry  her ;  then,  all  in  a  moment,  at  the 
touch  of  life,  the  chimera  had  vanished,  the  dream 
sped,  the  link  he  had  forged  snapped.  He  saw  the 
whole  adventure  —  he  could  name  it  that  to-night, 
with  a  shudder  of  disgust — as  a  bit  of  bizarre  reck 
lessness,  upon  his  part ;  upon  hers  —  ?  Graeham 
thrust  the  letters  from  him,  —  only,  however,  to 
-i-  143  +- 


bend  once  more  above  them,  reading  a  bit  here  and 
there,  unable  to  wholly  tear  his  mind  from  them ; 
until,  as  he  read,  their  very  iteration  seemed  to  strike 
a  new  note  from  them,  as  a  familiar  word  said  over 
and  over  will  dissemble  its  old  significance.  His 
breath  came  short  as  he  hung  above  them,  his  mind 
clinched  fast  upon  the  intangible  something  in  them, 
that  had  from  the  very  first  won  him,  tantalized  him, 
eluded  him.  To-night,  for  the  first  time,  he  grasped  it. 
A  voice,  whose  lightest  tone  had  grown  hauntingly 
familiar,  seemed  to  speak  the  words  in  his  ear ;  the 
sentences  fitted  themselves  to  the  curves  of  lips  he 
knew  by  heart ;  a  face,  that  he  had  tried  a  thousand 
times  to  evoke  and  failed,  to-night  rose  unbidden 
from  the  pages,  with  eyes  that  smiled  into  his  own. 
He  raised  the  sheets  to  his  face,  and  a  perfume,  as 
elusively  familiar  as  the  memory  of  a  dream,  stole 
from  them ;  and,  with  the  subtle  association  that  lives 
so  strongly  in  an  odor,  linked  sense  to  sense  in  a 
mesh  so  imperviable  that  the  impalpable  essence  of 
the  writer's  personality  seemed  caught  in  it  and  made 
tangible.  It  enveloped  him,  confused  him.  Which 
was  memory?  which  prevision?  Jane  Caruth  was 
beside  him ;  her  breath  on  his  cheek ;  the  perfume 
from  her  dress  mingled  with  —  nay,  it  tvas  the 
perfume  from  this  letter  ! 

Suddenly  Graeham  sprang  up,  and  with  a  curse 
thrust  the  letters  from  him,  with  the  hard,  deter 
mined  gesture  of  a  man  who  strips  self-deception 

-+    144    H- 


LIFE'S    DAILY    THIRST 

from  him  and  faces  the  inevitable  with  grim  honesty. 
He  took  a  turn  across  the  room  and  back,  paused  at 
the  table  and  lifted  the  ring,  glanced  at  the  date 
within,  and  put  it  on  ;  finally  seated  himself,  and 
with  the  set  face  of  a  man  who  closes  with  circum 
stances  in  a  hand-to-hand  fight,  wrote  slowly  and 
with  several  pauses  for  reflection  a  letter.  It  was 
short  and  baldly  simple,  yet  a  film  of  sweat  stood 
upon  Graeham's  forehead  when  it  was  done. 

He  enclosed  it  in  its  envelope,  and  that  within  an 
other,  which  he  addressed  to  James  Goodloe;  and 
flinging  it  upon  the  table,  sat  frowning  and  thinking. 

"  That  ought  to  force  her  hand,"  he  broke  out, 
after  an  interval  of  thought.  "  And  I  'm  sick  of 
this  skulking  and  sneaking  !  I  '11  put  it  to  the  touch. 
If  it  were  only  myself —  But  her?  God!  It  isn't 
fair  to  her." 

He  rose  again,  paced  the  floor  restlessly,  fighting 
another  round  of  the  losing  fight. 

"  Pooh !  "  he  flung  out,  after  a  bit  more  of  troubled 
musing;  "  I  'm  nothing  to  Miss  Caruth — one  among 
a  ruck  of  men." 

With  a  stubborn  flush  he  drew  off  the  ring,  and 
turning  deliberately  to  the  door,  crossed  the  hall  and 
entered  Mrs.  Carlysle's  reception  room. 

At  the  foundation  of  Graeham's  character  was  a 
fund  of  honesty,  clear-visioned  and  rational,  under 
lying  a  strong  will  and  impetuous  desires;  and  he 
suffered  as  such  men  suffer  when  the  fundamentals 
-+  145  -^ 


THE    WORLD'S    WARRANT 

of  their  natures  are  wrenched  by  the  struggle  be 
tween  them,  but  he  did  not  palter  with  the  sneak- 
thief  methods  of  self-deception.  Just  as  he  would 
have  taken  another  man  by  the  throat  and  kicked 
into  him  a  recognition  of  his  standards,  so  he  took 
himself  in  hand  and  brought  himself  up  to  his  own. 
He  saw  the  situation  between  himself  and  Mary 
Meadows  a  little  crudely,  perhaps,  as  a  business  con 
tract.  Men  made  contracts  every  day,  and  sweated 
under  them  and  kept  them.  No  more  was  to  be  said 
along  that  line. 

But  Goodloe's  argument,  backed  up  by  an  obsti 
nate  cogency  characteristically  his  own,  that  Mary 
Meadows  was  a  name  behind  which  some  man  was 
"  studying  the  thing  from  the  woman's  side,"  stuck 
persistently  in  Graeham's  mind.  It  was  a  solution, 
at  least,  of  the  farcical  tangle ;  and,  with  character 
istic  decision,  he  had  put  it  to  the  touch  to-night  in 
the  letter  he  had  written.  He  would  free  himself 
at  a  blow,  or  rivet  his  chains  and  reinforce  himself 
with  the  irrevocable,  by  insisting  upon  an  immediate 
marriage,  assigning  a  business  trip  abroad  as  his 
reason. 

When  the  little  stir  caused  by  Graeham's  entrance 
had  been  absorbed  in  the  steady  hum  of  talk  that 
filled  the  room,  he  made  his  way  to  Miss  Caruth's 
corner,  and  dropped  into  a  seat  at  her  side. 

"Not  going,  Clark?    I  rather  wanted  to  consult 
you  about  a  trip  up  to  the  falls." 
-+  146  H- 


"  For  God's  sake,  Graeham,"  protested  Clark 
earnestly,  "  don't  call  Chinquepin's  name  in  my 
hearing !  " 

Graeham  grinned  comprehendingly. 

"  My  plan  is  anti-toxin.  Mrs.  Epperson  put  it  into 
my  head.  She  has  been  telling  me — she  is  an  ad 
herent  of  yours,  Clark  —  how  '  perfectly  divine  '  it 
would  be  to  have  Chinquepin  water  right  in  the 
house.  So  good  for  the  complexion,  you  know  ! 
She  thinks  you  are  going  to  pipe  it  to  her."  Clark 
groaned.  "  I  explained  your  method,  and  now  her 
idea  is  an  electric  cotton-picker.  Why  not  take  the 
whole  lay-out  up  the  river  and  let  'em  see  for  them 
selves,  and  squelch  their  theories  about  i  electric 
kilt-pleaters '  ?  What  the  deuce  is  a  kilt-pleater, 
Clark?" 

"  Blamed  if  I  know !  Get  on  with  your  plan  to 
enlarge  Mrs.  Epperson's  mind." 

"  Trip  up  the  river,  —  mid-winter  picnic,  you 
know,  with  duck  shooting  in  the  afternoon  and  my 
men's  dinner  at  night,  and  wind  it  all  up  with  a 
ball.  What  do  you  say,  Miss  Caruth  ?  " 

Jane  was  sparkling  with  delicious  laughter  as  she 
turned  to  Clark,  holding  Graeham  with  a  waiting 
glance. 

"  Do  you  happen  to  remember  any  word  more 
strenuous  than  '  strenuous,'  Mr.  Clark  ?  My  little 
vocabulary  cannot  do  justice  to  such  a  programme ! " 

"  I  like  to  give  a  thing  a  good  swing-off,"  ex- 
-H  147  +- 


THE    WORLD'S    WARRANT 

plained  Graeham  earnestly,  amid  the  laughter  of  the 
other  two. 

"  Sort  of  '  Graeham's  Day,'  "  murmured  Clark. 
"Go  sounding  down  the  corridors  of  time, — that 
sort?" 

"  Do  we  count  you  in,  then,  with  your  crowd  ?  " 

"  I  '11  stand  for  strawberries  and  champagne  on 
board,  yes.  But  if  you  're  thinking  of  making  that 
technical  speech  of  yours,  Graeham  —  You  should 
hear  Graeham  speak,  Miss  Caruth !  He  takes  the 
glasses  and  things  on  the  table  to  build  wheels  and 
high-potential  stations,  to  explain  —  -  Does  he  ?  Cer 
tainly  not ! " 

"  You  'd  better  be  on  hand,  to  put  a  spoke  into 
some  of  my  wheels,"  Graeham  suggested,  with  cool 
amusement.  "  Clark  and  I,  Miss  Caruth,  are  exactly 
like  two  fellows  in  love  with  the  same  woman  —  Chin- 
quepin  is  the  woman  in  this  case  ;  —  neither  dares  to 
let  the  other  out  of  his  sight." 

Clark  left  them  a  moment  after  to  join  General 
DeResett,  who  was  making  his  adieus. 

"  Do  you  like  it  in  l  the  corral '  ?  "  inquired  Miss 
Caruth,  with  a  smile  rousing  Graeham  from  the  mo 
mentary  abstraction  into  which  he  had  frankly  sub 
sided  when  Clark  had  left  them.  His  eyes  absorbed 
every  delicate  detail  of  Miss  Caruth's  dress,  with  a 
scarcely  restrained  pleasure  that  was  half  artistic, 
half  sensuous,  and  wholly  without  intention. 

"'Like  it'?  Like  sitting  here  by  you?  Like  see- 
-i-  148  t- 


LIFE'S    DAILY    THIRST 

ing  those  pearls  tremble  on  your  throat,  and  this  fold 
of  your  gown  like  mist  across  my  knee?  —  Yes;  I 
like  it." 

His  voice  was  but  a  tone  above  a  whisper,  and 
Jane  was  conscious  of  little  dropping  pauses  in  the 
talk  about  them,  of  the  silken  whisper  of  garments 
as  their  wearers  turned  toward  their  corner. 

"  You  must  n't  talk  about  people's  clothes,  you 
know,"  she  hurriedly  admonished  him,  striving  to 
keep  the  flutter  out  of  her  voice  and  the  flush  from 
her  cheek.  "  And  whatever  you  do,  don't,  don't 
whisper  !  "  she  concluded,  with  unconsciously  dra 
matic  intensity. 

"  All  right,"  said  Graeham  aloud;  "is  that  wrong, 
too?" 

"  It  is  unusual,"  said  Miss  Caruth  judicially,  a  tiny 
fold  in  her  straight  brows ;  "and  that  is  what  really 
counts,  you  know,  —  the  unusualness  of  anything." 

"Jove,"  mused  Graeham  aloud,  "what  a  pace  I 

must  be  going !  I  've  always  been  tough,  but  un 
usual!—" 

Their  gaze,  resting  each  upon  the  other's,  was 
fused  into  a  long  questioning  glance.  Graeham  was 
perfectly  grave,  and  Miss  Caruth's  glance  was  by 
turns  speculative,  reproachful,  and  finally  affronted. 

There  had  not  appeared  upon  Graeham's  face  the 
instant  contrition  that  Miss  Caruth  was  accustomed 
to  see  upon  men's  faces  at  her  faintest  sign  of  dis 
approval.  On  the  contrary,  a  trace  of  amusement, 
-i-  149  +- 


THE    WORLD'S    WARRANT 

that  just  escaped  by  a  shade  being  tender,  touched 
the  corners  of  his  mouth  and  waited  in  his  eyes.  It 
became  clear  to  Jane,  after  an  instant,  that  Graeham 
was  enjoying  her  from  some  rugged  height  of  mas 
culinity  within  himself,  from  which  her  girlish  tricks 
of  manner  appeared  to  him  blended  into  the  one  pure 
ray  of  her  womanhood.  Alone  with  her  thus,  he 
would  not  dash  the  exquisite  moments  into  froth  with 
trivialities ;  he  would  not  make  pretense.  Frankly, 
a  little  disconcertingly,  he  assumed  the  real  juxta 
position  of  his  manhood  to  her  womanhood,  with  a 
manly  sincerity  that  pierced  to  the  deep  core  of  feel 
ing  hidden  under  the  girl's  glaze  of  conventionality. 
She  sought  refuge  from  the  intensity  of  the  moment 
in  a  bit  of  play,  and,  under  guise  of  arranging  her 
floating  draperies,  turned  from  Graeham,  obliter 
ating  him  with  a  turn  of  her  shoulder  from  the 
scheme  of  created  things.  Graeham  did  not  attempt 
to  break  the  silence  that  followed.  Why  should  he? 
It  was  happiness  enough  to  sit  beside  her  and  see  the 
nape  of  her  slender  neck,  about  which  was  clasped 
the  string  of  pearls  that  Callie's  western  lover  had 
sent  her,  the  puff  of  dark  hair,  from  which  a  curl 
had  escaped  and  lay  just  under  one  velvety  little 
ear.  Graeham,  with  man-like  tidiness,  longed  to  tuck 
it  in.  His  eyes  passed  from  the  curl  to  the  pure 
curve  of  Miss  Caruth's  throat,  with  a  passing  won 
der  that  he  ever  should  have  been  so  crude  as  to 
admire  women  with  white  skins;  but  then  he  had 
-I-  150  -)- 


LIFE'S    DAILY    THIRST 

not  known  that  a  woman  with  Jane's  exquisite  mezzo 
tinting  was  in  the  world.  How  lovely  the  pearls 
were  on  the  velvet  richness  of  her  skin  !  His  eyes  lin 
gered  with  vague  delight  upon  them,  and  stopped 
suddenly  with  a  leap  at  the  clasp  that  held  them,  and 
remained  riveted  there  intently. 

The  clasp  was  a  unique  one;  and  Goodloe,  with  an 
inspiration  of  good  taste,  had  had  the  jeweler  engrave 
among  the  arabesques  that  ornamented  the  tiny  flat 
band  the  initials  M  M,  though  so  minutely  and  so 
interwoven  with  the  carving  as  to  be  indistinguish 
able  except  upon  close  scrutiny.  As  Graeham  leaned 
forward,  to  interpose  his  shoulder  between  the  room 
and  Miss  Caruth's  dainty  pretense  at  displeasure,  his 
eyes  were  brought  wdthin  a  foot  of  the  clasp,  and 
with  the  acuteness  of  automatic  vision  he  traced  the 
letters  amid  the  design. 

A  second  passed,  and  another,  in  amused  suspense 
upon  Miss  Caruth's  part ;  upon  Graeham's,  in  a  pa 
ralysis  of  emotion,  comparable  more  nearly,  perhaps, 
to  the  dead  calm  at  the  storm's  centre  than  anything 
else. 

Meantime  there  had  been  a  general  exodus  of  the 

O 

party  in  the  reception  room  to  the  adjoining  room, 
whence  came  a  medley  of  convivial  sounds:  com 
mands,  issued  in  a  tone  of  brief  authority  ;  a  call  for 
lemons,  a  smell  of  spices,  the  thump  of  an  ice  pail, 
the  impetuous  announcement  of  a  champagne  cork, 
followed  by  the  cheerful  clucking  of  the  wine  upon 
-f-  151  -<- 


THE    WORLD'S    WARRANT 

its  heels;  the  remonstrant  click  of  silver  and  china 
handled  by  amateurs;  Mrs.  Carlysle's  voice  finally, 
announcing  in  a  tone  of  absorbed  responsibility,  — 

"  We  're  nearly  ready  over  here ;  somebody  get 
the  glasses." 

A.  frou-frou  of  women's  skirts,  mingled  with  the 
sound  of  footsteps  stringing  out  along  a  table;  then 
a  voice,  a  dozen  voices,  calling  for  a  song,  a  drinking 
song. 

"  Mr.  Graeham  has  a  per-fectly  di-vine  singing 
mouth  "  —the  voice  was  Mrs.  Epperson's  —  "  and  a 
forehead  all  over  bumps,  the  ideal  musician's  brow." 

"  Graeham,  can  you  sing?  "asked  Carlysle,  with 
his  head  around  the  doorpost. 

"  Sing?  "  echoed  Graeham,  starting  up  still  dazed 
and  shaken.  "  I  can  sing  when  I  'm  drunk." 

There  was  a  shout  of  laughter  from  the  other 
room,  mingled  with  cries  of  — 

"  Chug  him  up  on  this,  Carlysle  !  No,  stop,  hold 
on  !  Graeham  's  a  four-bottle  man ;  he  comes  too 
high  !  Inspiration  's  all  very  well,  but  champagne 
is  a  lot  better  !  " 

There  was  a  hubbub  of  laughter,  of  advice  and 
encouragement,  during  all  of  which  Graeham  was 
conscious  only  of  Miss  Caruth's  distressed  silence,  her 
reproachful  eyes.  He  steadied  himself  to  explain. 

"I  mean,"  he  said,  making  himself  heard  amid  the 
laughter,  —  "what  I  mean  is,  that  the  one  or  two 
times  in  my  life  when  I  have  been  drunk  I  sang ;  I 
-H-  152  +- 


LIFE'S    DAILY    THIRST 

don't  know  why,  or  how  well.  But  I  think — yes,  I 
know  I  can  sing  to-night.  But  no  !  No  champagne  ! 
It  takes  a  drink  divine  forme;  and"  —slowly  — 
"  I  'm  half  over  now." 

"  Music  is  the  only  '  drink  divine/  "  said  Miss 
Caruth,  from  the  piano  stool,  as  she  raised  her  eyes 
wonderingly  to  Graeham's  face.  She  struck  a  chord 
of  "  Drink  to  me  only  with  thine  eyes  "  as  she  spoke. 

"There's  one  other,"  said  Graeham  hurriedly, 
under  cover  of  the  accompaniment. 

"  Come,  "  she  said  softly,  and  gave  him  the  note. 
Without  moving  from  where  he  leaned  upon  the 
piano,  Graeham  sang  the  old  song  through,  in  a  voice 
half  muted  to  suit  the  room,  hut  with  an  abandon  and 
a  dramatic  intensity  that  swept  his  audience  off  their 
feet.  Pie  sang  again,  —  a  vagrant  bit  of  melody 
caught  up  from  the  street  or  the  stage,  with  a  thrill 
of  passion  through  it,  like  an  organ  note  lost  amid 
the  clangor  of  the  streets  at  noon;  and  then  left 
them,  still  clamoring  for  more,  to  seek  the  solitude 
of  his  rooms. 

Graeham  needed  to  be  alone, —  to  tighten  his  grip 
upon  himself ;  to  find  his  feet  amid  the  tide  of  fast- 
mounting,  heady  bliss,  that  was  drowning  reason's 
level  accents  and  swamping  the  sane  counsel  of  ex 
perience.  Again  he  ranged  the  letters  before  him, 
marveling  that  he  had  not  earlier  read  their  secret. 
Each  word  and  phrase,  each  deft  turn  of  fancy,  the 
delicate  restraint,  the  frank  reticence,  held  the  very 
-+  153  +- 


THE    WORLD'S    WARRANT 

essence  of  Jane's  charm ;   the  strong,  buoyant,  tender 
spirit  of  the  woman  infused  them.    It  was  herself  - 
Jane,  Jane  ! 

Graeham  bent  his  face  upon  the  pages  where  her 
hand  had  lain,  and  saw  it  before  his  eyes, —  its  slender 
strength,  the  rosy  nails  with  clean-cut  facets,  —  and 
felt  again  the  thrill  of  the  nerve  through  it  as  it 
touched  his  own.  He  drew  out  the  ring  and  slipped 
it  on  —  Ah,  the  ring  !  Suddenly  he  was  conscious 
that  he  had  been  fighting  off  the  thought  of  the 
ring  all  along;  he  wondered  half  dreamily  why,  when 
it  was  the  link  that  bound  her  to  —  to  him  ! 

The  man  started  upright,  his  brow  bending  with 
pain  as  a  jagged  flash  of  comprehension  tore  through 
his  mind,  laying  the  whole  thing  bare  to  the  bone  be 
fore  his  shrinking  consciousness.  No  dodging  it ;  no 
palliating  it.  Naked,  incontrovertible,  it  stared  him  in 
the  face.  Reason  —  and  reason  was  Graeham's  bul 
wark  —  presented  its  case  with  cynical  dry  ness,  and 
rested  upon  the  facts. 

The  simple  womanly  words  accompanying  the  ring, 
now  lying  upon  the  table  before  him,  had  not  been 
written  to  him.  They  had  pledged  her,  so  far  as  her 
own  voluntary  act  could  pledge  her,  to  another  man, 
a  man  whom  for  some  incredible,  inexplicable  reason 
-  Graeham's  reluctant  mind  could  scarce  tolerate 
the  thought  so  long  as  it  took  to  fit  it  into  the  chain 
of  remorseless  facts  —  she  had  agreed  to  marry,  never 
having  seen. 

•H.  154  H- 


LIFE'S    DAILY    THIRST 

It  seemed  to  Graeham  that  hours  had  passed  be 
fore  he  could  rouse  himself  to  feel  in  a  dull,  reflex 
way,  as  a  man  waking  from  sleep  might  fumble  for 
his  identity,  for  his  usual  sane  balance,  to  weigh 
the  conditions  confronting  him  and  get  at  their  real 
values,  —  wring  from  them  an  extenuation  — •-  for 
her  !  The  rational  view  !  He  calmed  himself  by  a 
fierce  effort  of  self-control,  hanging  on  to  his  men 
tal  poise,  as  a  man  hangs  on  to  reason  amid  the  mists 
of  fever.  And  so  welded  to  the  innermost  fibre  of 
man's  consciousness  is  his  thought-habit  —  the  last 

O 

redoubt  of  character  —  that  at  Graeham's  demand 
the  inexplicable  situation  took  on  a  saner  aspect; 
a  tenable  hypothesis  took  shape  before  his  mental 
eyes.  His  rigid  muscles  relaxed,  and  for  the  first 
time  he  was  conscious  of  the  sweat  that  poured  from 
his  face  ;  his  chest  rose  in  an  inspiration  of  quick  re 
lief,  as  he  reached  for  his  pipe.  What  a  madman  he 
had  been  to  think  —  But  he  had  not !  Thank  God 
for  that.  It  had  been  anguish  -  Great  God,  what 
anguish  !  but  not  doubt.  Never  doubt  of  her  —  of 
Jane !  He  saw  it  now.  D —  Carlysle !  A  joke, 
of  course ;  with  Carlysle  at  the  bottom  of  it,  equally  of 
course  !  How  thoroughly  in  character  the  whole 
thing  was  with  Carlysle's  intricate,  metaphysical 
prying  into  the  springs  of  human  action.  He  was 
a  veritable  human  ferret  to  trace  character  —  hunt 
down  some  bit  of  psychology  to  educe  triumphantly 
as  a  proof  of  soul-meddling  with  the  common  game 
-i-  155  •*- 


THE    WORLD'S    WARRANT 

of  life.  Of  course  he  had  drawn  Miss  Caruth  into 
it,  —  Graeham's  brow  grew  stern  again,  —  she  had 
innocently  written  the  letters  to  further  the  elabo 
rate,  conscienceless  jest.  And  how  well  it  had  been 
carried  out !  Carlysle's  hand  in  that,  of  course,  visi 
ble  all  the  way  through.  Only  a  man  in  a  position  of 
authority  could  have  insured  success  to  every  prac 
tical  detail.  Every  clue  that  he  had  picked  up  in  the 
early  days  when  he  had  first  come  to  Morganton  had 
led  him  to  the  offices  of  the  Development  Company, 
and  had  there  been  lost  amid  the  volume  of  business 
pouring  through  the  offices,  which  did  the  business 
for  the  whole  infant  town.  The  package  containing 
the  pearls  he  had  seen  to-night  upon  her  throat  had 
been  receipted  for  by  Carlysle's  secretary;  but  Car 
lysle's  clerks  handled  mail  for  men  whom  Carlysle 
had  never  seen  or  expected  to  see,  and  it  was  this 
very  fact,  the  impersonal  character  of  his  business, 
that  had  enabled  him  to  carry  through  his  game 
without  risk  of  detection.  Was  it  possible  that  he 
had  deceived  Jane?  Graeham  paused  a  moment,  to 
think  this  out. 

What  had  most  charmed  him  in  Jane,  had  been 
her  serene  detachment  from  the  problematical  side 
of  life.  She  had  a  pure,  if  somewhat  rigid,  rectitude, 
that  saw  life  as  concretely  right  or  wrong;  and  the 
clean,  sweet-smelling,  narrow  path  of  right  had  been 
wide  enough  for  her  slender  experiences  to  tread, 
with  skirts  undraggled  by  contact  with  the  dubious 
-i-  156  -1- 


LIFE'S    DAILY    THIRST 

shades  of  conscience,  where  right  overlaps  wrong  by 
a  hair's-breadth,  and  wrong  merges  muddily  into 
right  by  a  shade.  It  was  this  immaculateness  of 
nature  that  Graeham  had  so  worshiped  in  her : 
hers  was  the  purity  that  is  not  alone  of  word  or 
deed,  but  is  a  structural  part  of  the  women  who 
have  it;  every  molecule  in  the  substance  of  them, 
soul  and  body  and  spirit,  alike  being  composed  of 
an  atom  of  purity  combined  with  one  of  truth  and 
womanliness. 

Graeham  suddenly  struck  the  table  a  blow  of 
futile  wrath.  How  should  she  know  or  dream  of 
the  part  she  had  been  made  to  play  ?  The  concom 
itants  of  such  a  game  as  she  had  been  innocently 
drawn  into  Avere  dead  letter  to  her,  of  course ;  the 
trickery,  the  blackmail,  the  hideous  insinuation, 
the  inevitable  construction  that  the  world  —  should 
the  world  ever  know  —  would  put  upon  her  innocent 
escape.  Thank  God  she  did  not  know !  Some  day, 
perhaps,  when  she  had  been  his  wife  for  long  happy 
years,  sitting  together  with  quiet  hand  locked  in 
quiet  hand,  he  might  tell  her  of  his  rash  meddling 
with  fate,  and  of  the  blessed,  four-leafed  shamrock 
of  fate  that  had  saved  him. 

He  raised  the  letter  he  had  written  earlier  in  the 
evening  in  his  hand,  weighing  it  meditatively.  Let 
it  go  ?  Yes !  'T  was  better  so,  for  her.  It  would 
bring  the  thing  to  a  head;  clear  the  way  for  her 
escape  from  the  irksome  absurdity  of  her  position. 
-H  157  +- 


THE    WORLD'S    WARRANT 

Graeham  rose  at  last  to  retire,  and  laid  himself 
down  to  sleep,  still  holding  himself  steadily  in  hand, 
as  a  man  might  driving  along  a  precipice,  with  the 
reins  wrapped  round  his  fist  and  his  eyes  set  hard 
ahead. 


AN    IRKSOME    LIE 


CHAPTER   IX 

..."  Eager  to  end  an  irksome  lie, 
And  taste  our  tingling,  true  relation." 

GRAEHAM  had  thrown  himself  into  the  preparations 
for  his  threefold  social  function,  with  an  earnestness 
of  purpose  that,  backed  by  his  trained  activity,  made 
things  fall  into  shape  with  magical  alacrity.  Like  all 
men  who  are  really  effective  in  any  line,  Graeham 
had  an  absolute  genius  for  detail;  and  he  brought  it 
into  play  with  precisely  the  same  patient  thorough 
ness,  and  breadth  of  design,  in  the  arrangements  for 
his  winter  picnic,  that  distinguished  him  as  a  business 
man. 

He  had  taken  one  of  the  rather  disreputable  river 
boats,  and  had  had  it  painted  and  decorated  "within 
and  without,"  so  that  upon  the  morning  of  the  ex 
cursion  it  lay  at  its  landing  resplendent  with  rugs 
and  cushions  and  flags,  bobbing  like  a  white  duck 
at  its  rope. 

And  if,  as  Carlysle  had  averred  earlier  in  the 
season,  the  stars  in  their  courses  fought  for  the  De 
velopment  Company,  the  very  elements  had  united 
to  smile  upon  the  sponsors  of  the  yet  unborn  Chin- 
quepin  Company.  January,  usually  so  chary  with 
sunshine,  came  down  handsomely  with  a  day  com- 

-H-     159     H- 


posite  of  the  charms  of  April  and  October,  so  crisp 
and  calm  it  was;  with  floods  of  sunshine  under  a  low 
blue  sky,  and  a  care-free  breeze  that  skidded  along 
the  water,  curling  up  ripples  that  purred  along  the 
boat's  side  and  rocked  the  canes  along  the  banks. 

Clark's  crowd,  Eastern  men  newly  arrived  most  of 
them,  all  with  money  tied  up  in  all  sorts  of  enter 
prises  depending  upon  the  power  to  be  developed 
from  the  falls,  were  impatiently  diverted  by  the 
social  interlude  introduced  into  a  business  deal,  and 
just  a  trifle  bored  at  having  women  along.  But  as 
the  little  boat  took  the  stream,  nosing  the  silver 
current  like  a  hound,  and  the  wind  caught  them  a 
school-boy  cuff  upon  the  cheek,  the  half-petrified 
cockles  of  their  hearts  warmed  with  memories  of 
stolen  days  along  some  far-away  river-bank;  and  they 
leaned  upon  the  rail,  eagerly  pointing  out  to  each 
other  the  current  creaming  in  the  reeds,  or  a  wild 
duck's  nest  among  the  canes,  feeling,  with  reminis 
cent  eyes  upon  the  canes,  their  hands  curl  to  fit  the 
handle  of  a  phantom  jack-knife,  and  hearing  its  clean 
swish  through  the  hollow  stems. 

And  as  the  sky  grew  bluer  toward  noon,  and  the 
sunshine  warmer  on  their  shoulders,  the  Chinquepin 
Power  Company's  billion-dollar  deal  receded  into 
the  background ;  and  by  noon  it  was  abundantly 
apparent  that  the  afternoon's  duck  shooting  was  the 
real  feature  of  the  occasion,  the  organization  of  the 
power  company  but  an  incident.  The  talk  took  on  a 
-*•  160  H- 


sporting  tone,  and  was  a  bit  louder  than  usual ;  men 
walked  about  the  deck  with  the  swagger  that  seems 
immortally  resident  in  shooting  boots,  squinting 
knowingly  at  infinity  along  the  barrels  o£  their  guns. 

The  women  of  the  party  were  ostentatiously  ar 
rayed  for  a  rough  outing,  in  short  skirts  and  thick 
boots  ;  but  at  the  sight  of  the  muddy  river-bank  and 
the  wet  fields  to  be  traversed  before  the  falls  were 
reached,  their  interest  in  the  financial  development 
of  Pike  County,  so  fluently  patriotic  upon  deck, 
waned.  All,  with  the  exception  of  Jane  and  Miss 
Cotesworth,  contented  themselves  with  waving  grace 
ful  adieus  to  the  party  bound  for  the  falls,  after 
which  they  settled  down  to  a  good,  poky  "  women 
talk,"  wherein  they  might  be  as  frankly  dull  as  ever 
they  liked. 

Miss  Caruth  was  particularly  effective,  in  an  ag 
gressively  rough  outfit,  with  determined  boots  and  a 
short  seal  coat  and  cap,  and  cheeks  that  glowed  with 
soft  rose.  Graeham,  busied  with  his  duties  as  host, 
meeting  her  eyes  in  long  radiant  glances  across  the 
talk,  drew  her  care-free  happiness  into  his  sore  heart, 
as  the  numb  soil  was  drinking  up  the  sunshine,  and 
felt  the  dull  ache  there  fade  into  his  usual  quiet  hap 
piness  at  her  nearness. 

The  two  girls  drifted  away  from  the  group  at  the 

falls,  where  the  men  of  the  party  stood,  with  feet 

planted  wide  apart  in  the  correct  newspaper  attitude 

for  the  American  man  of  affairs,  when  engaged  in  some 

-t-  161  +- 


THE    WORLD'S    WARRANT 

particularly  strenuous  enterprise,  squinting  through 
their  fists  at  the  falls,  while  they  made  ready-to-use 
estimates,  and  delivered  them  with  a  foxy  air  of  its 
potential.  The  talk  was  all  of  "  three-phase  alter 
nating  currents,"  and  the  "  head  "  necessary  to  set 
such  and  such  electric  dynamos  spinning  and  keep 
up  the  high  potential  line  current  to  such  and  such 
distances,  all  interspersed  with  much  keen  discussion 
as  to  the  maximum  capacity  of  the  lovely  water  sprite ; 
who  was  singing  her  syren  song  to  their  callous  ears, 
while  they  argued  the  relative  merits  of  Swiss  or 
American  wheels,  of  buckets  or  scoops  in  which  she, 
Cinderella-like,  was  to  be  made  to  do  the  chores  of 
commerce,  instead  of  swirling  her  skirts  of  diamond 
spray  and  lacy  mist  all  day  in  the  sunshine. 

"  Are  they  done  about  ( impulse  wheels '  and 
'  total  drops  '  ?  "  inquired  Mrs.  Carlysle,  cautiously 
opening  her  eyes.  She  had  made  herself  comfortable 
in  a  nest  of  cushions  and,  frankly  conserving  her 
energies  for  the  men  of  the  party,  left  the  other 
women  to  do  the  part  of  chorus  when  a  man  hap 
pened  to  look  their  way  and  shout  an  explanation 
they  did  not  understand. 

"  It 's  worse  than  that  now,"  sighed  Mrs.  Daniels, 
the  widow  with  the  gowns.  She  was  really  giving 
no  attention  to  the  men,  being  engaged  in  a  calcu 
lation  of  her  own  regarding  wreights  and  measures ; 
a  computation,  in  fact,  as  to  how  far  she  dared 
"  risk  "  her  figure  in  proximity  to  the  girlish  slender- 
-H  162  I- 


ness  of  Jane  and  Miss  Cotesworth,  who  were  lightly 
scrambling  among  the  rocks,  supporting  each  other 
in  perilously  graceful  attitudes,  while  they  made 
futile  grabs  at  the  low-hanging  holly  boughs,  with 
little  shrieks  of  protest  when  the  holly  defended 
itself  with  prickly  asperity  against  their  depreda 
tions. 

"  Mr.  Graeham  is  making  a  speech,  I  think ;  at 
least,  he  's  doing  all  the  talking,  and  — -  is  n't  it  too 
funny  ?  The  other  men  are  not  interrupting  him, 
or  talking  at  the  same  time ;  they  are  actually 
listening  !  He  's  talking  about  a  waterfall,  with  a 
perfectly  indecent  name ;  it 's  in  Mexico,  thank 
heaven !  and  oh,  they  are  laughing.  Surely  it  can 
not  be  at  anything  he  said,  for  if  ever  there  was  a 
tiresome  man  !  "  — 

"  Had  you  any  idea  Graeham  could  talk  like  that?  " 
asked  old  Lossing,  who,  had  he  been  geared  to  a 
water-wheel  himself,  would  have  managed  somehow 
to  get  loose  and  join  the  youngest  girl  in  the  party; 
as  he  joined  Jane  and  her  companion,  now  engaged 
in  flinging  clods  at  bunches  of  mistletoe  tantalizingly 
displayed  upon  the  bare  boughs,  with  such  startling 
irrelevancy  of  aim  as  to  draw  shouts  of  laughter  from 
the  men  about  the  falls,  and  almost  break  up  Grae- 
ham's  audience. 

"Four  words  at  a  time,"  went  on  Lossing,  "is  all 
he  ever  trusted  me  with.  But  then  I  never  saw 
him  under  inspiration  before."  Jane  answered  with 
-+  163  ^ 


a  panting  smile  as  she  desisted,  sending  Graeham  a 
long  distant  smile  across  the  field,  that  made  him 
stumble  in  his  speech  as  he  raised  his  cap  in  reply. 

"  You  are  not  the  only  one  of  Mr.  Graeham's 
friends  that  he  has  treated  shabbily,"  she  was  tell 
ing  Lossing,  as  Graeham  joined  them.  "  He  has  made 
quite  a  point  of  using  only  one-syllabled  words  when 
he  talked  to  me,  and  I  am  a  little  wounded  at  the 
language  he  has  been  keeping  back  all  this  time  for 
other  people.  Perhaps  it  is  too  much  to  expect  him 
to  say  '  Juanacatalan'  for  just  me  ;  but  if  I  am 
a  person's  friend  "  —  a  plaintive  glance  and  shrug 
finished  Graeham's  rout. 

"  Dangerous  admission,  that !  "  chuckled  Bridges, 
a  salmon-colored  veteran  of  finance,  in  Graeham's 
ear.  "A  fellow  has  it  under  the  ribs  when  he  takes 
to  one  syllable,  eh,  Graeham  ?  " 

"  Dangerous  ?  "  queried  Graeham  gravely  ;  "  volts 
is  a  one-syllabled  word,  but  it  only  measures  force." 

"  The  one  I  had  reference  to  is  force!  "  retorted 
Bridges  over  his  shoulder,  humorously  aware  of 
Graeham's  moody  discontent  as  he  monopolized  Miss 
Caruth,  and  waddled  oif  with  the  gait  of  a  joyous 
hippopotamus  at  her  side.  Jane  was  piteously  be 
moaning  her  cruel  fate  at  missing  all  the  real  fun  of 
the  day. 

"  Chivalry  !  "  she  cried,  with  energetic  disdain  ; 
"  that  is  just  why  I  so  perfectly  hate  it !  When  /" 
• —  with  withering  emphasis  —  "  value  anything  as 
-H  164  ^ 


AN    IRKSOME    LIE 


you  pretend  to  value  —  certain  things,  I  keep  it  by 
me.  I  don't  set  it  up  on  some  old  musty  shrine, 
where  there  is  no  fun  ever,  and  wallow  in  the  mire 
myself  and  have  a  perfectly  lovely  time." 

The  landing,  when  they  reached  it,  was  a  cheerful 
medley  of  men  and  dogs  and  game-bags ;  the  dogs, 
frantic  with  excitement,  filling  the  air  with  whines  of 
rapture  and  joyously  retrieving  everything  in  sight, 
and  getting  warmly  slapped  for  their  enthusiasm, 
while  a  little  flotilla  of  canoes  bumped  at  their 
posts. 

"Should  you  really  care  to  see  the  shooting?" 
asked  Graeham,  bending  over  Miss  Caruth  under 
cover  of  the  bustle. 

"  Oh, —  should  I !  "  sighed  she  ecstatically.  "  May 
I?  Can  I?  How  can  I?" 

''( If  you  don't  mind  the  canoe  being  a  little  wet, 
I  can't  see  why  not,  —  can  you  ?  " 

"Not  any  in  the  world!  But  —  Kate  might," 
she  admitted  with  a  laugh.  "You've  simply  no  idea 
how  vain  Kate  is  of  her  pin-feathers  of  matrimony. 
She  might  think  this  a  good  opportunity  to  air 
them,  you  know." 

"  If  we  slip  over  the  bank,  they  won't  see  us  until 
we  are  out  of  gun-shot  range.  Take  care!  It's 
beastly  muddy  just  here.  May  I  take  you  down  — 
this  time?  "  with  a  smile  of  memory. 

"Do  you  think  they'll  open  fire  before  we  get 
round  the  bend?  " 

-t-  165  -i- 


THE    WORLD'S    WARRANT 

"  Bridges  might.  It 's  best  to  be  on  the  safe  side, 
and  keep  under  the  canes." 

"Is  n't  this  too  delicious?"  murmured  Jane,  as  she 
followed  Graeham  along  a  mud  path  under  the  bend 
ing  canes,  with  the  river  water  licking  their  boots. 
"  I  feel  exactly  like  'the  Marooners/ —  don't  you?  " 

"  Yes.  Give  me  your  hand  along  here ;  this  bank 
is  infernally  slippery." 

"  I  wish  something  thrilly  would  happen,"  whis 
pered  Jane,  with  exaggerated  caution  and  the  air  of 
a  midnight  assassin,  setting  her  slim  boots  in  Grae- 
ham's  tracks  and  holding  to  his  hand  with  a  nervous 
clutch,  —  "  some  of  those  delicious  things  that  hap 
pened  to  Rider  Haggard's  people.  Have  you  ever 
noticed,  Mr.  Graeham,  how  tame  real  life  is  ?  Now 
why  should  not  a  bottomless  chasm  yawn  at  our  feet, 
or  a  scaly  monster  dart  from  the  river  and  pursue 
ns?  They  might  just  as  well  as  not." 

"  This  is  good  enough  for  me,"  said  Graeham. 

"  Oh,  that !  But  not  thrilly  !  Not  even  creepy,  I 
should  say.  At  least  /  don't  feel  creepy  "  —  her 
tone  was  slightly  disparaging.  "  But  I  have  heard 
or  read  somewhere  that  —  er  —  that  nature  is  grad 
ually  suppressing  the  heroic  element  in  men,  because 
they  don't  need  it  any  more  "  —  this  conclusion  in  a 
distinctly  snubbing  tone. 

"  Give  me  your  other  hand,"  said  Graeham. 

"Have  you  shivers  up  your  backbone,  Mr.  Grae* 
ham  ?  "  insisted  Jane  sternly. 
-h  166  -K- 


AN    IRKSOME    LIE 


"  Not  my  backbone ;  I  have  mine  in  my  heart. 
Here  's  the  canoe.  If  you  '11  be  so  kind  as  to  supply 
the  formula  for  putting  a  lady  into  a  wet,  not  to  say 
sloppy,  canoe,  we  '11  get  under  way." 

Jane  ignored  him,  and  seated  herself  with  as 
much  dignity  as  an  alternately  wobbling  and  buck 
ing  canoe  would  admit. 

"  My  basket  is  a  good  bit  down  the  river,"  Grae- 
ham  explained,  as  he  turned  the  canoe  into  the  stream, 
where  the  sun  on  its  first  downward  slant  was  paving 
the  current  with  patines  of  pure  gold. 

"  Basket  ?  But  I  forgot  that  this  is  your  day  for 
saying  extraordinary  things,"  said  Jane,  with  soft 
impertinence ;  and  with  laughing  eyes  upon  Grae- 
ham,  she  softly  hummed  "  The  Owl  and  the  Pussy 
Cat  went  to  Sea." 

Jane  had  been  conscious  once  or  twice  during  the 
day  of  an  under-note  in  Graeham,  that  had  puzzled 
her,  —  a  concentrated  gravity  it  seemed  to  be,  that 
wore  through  his  ordinary  mood  like  steel  through 
a  scabbard.  She  had  seen  him  steal  a  moment  from 
the  talk  about  him,  to  spend  in  silent  colloquy,  several 
times  that  day ;  and  as  he  sat  before  her,  sending  the 
little  boat  along  with  strong  strokes,  she  saw  the 
shadow  of  the  same  abstraction  fall  once  more  upon 
him,  as  she  watched  him  with  shy  solicitude  that 
would  not  acknowledge  a  right  to  be  wounded  by 
his  reticence. 

Graeham's  basket  proved  to  be  a  wigwam  upon  a 

-H-     167     H- 


THE    WORLD'S    WARRANT 

hummock  close  to  the  river,  improvised  from  two 
cotton  baskets  overturned  a  little  space  apart,  and 
roofed  with  sheaves  of  cane  and  underbrush.  Miss 
Caruth  gave  a  shriek  of  rapture  as  Graeham,  hold 
ing  the  trailing  canes  aside,  invited  her  to  enter;  and 
creeping  in,  curled  herself,  school-girl  fashion,  upon 
the  carpet  of  raw  cotton  that  lined  it. 

"  It  is  exactly  like  the  playhouses  I  used  to  build 
long —  so  long  ago  !  And  oh,  that  darling,  cunning 
little  window,  with  a  perfectly  dis-tracting  view  of 
the  river ! " 

"  That 's  for  the  gun-barrel,"  explained  Graeham, 
disposing  of  himself  by  lying  flat  upon  the  cotton  at 
Jane's  side.  "You  should  have  seen  the  nigger's 
face  when  I  told  him  to  put  the  cotton  in  !  It 's  a 
lark  to  have  a  girl  along,  is  n't  it  ?  Now  I  '11  give 
you  a  point  or  two  about  the  sport ;  and  then  we 
must  n't  talk,  you  know." 

"Why?" 

"  The  ducks  will  hear  us." 

"Oh!" 

Silence  ensued,  except  for  the  voices  of  the  woods 
and  the  river  and  the  fields,  that  filled  the  inter 
lude  with  a  soft  symphony  of  their  own  :  the 
thud  of  chestnuts  falling  on  dead  leaves;  the  shrill 
soprano  of  a  squirrel's  bark  in  the  wood  behind 
them  ;  the  wash  of  the  current  round  the  point;  the 
reeds  softly  grounding  arms  as  the  wind  touched 
them. 

-+  168  *- 


AN    IRKSOME    LIE 


"Am  I  too  close?  "  whispered  Graeham. 

No  answer.  Miss  Caruth's  eyes  were  upon  the 
shining1  reaches  of  the  river  where,  just  in  sight  round 
the  point,  a  white  breast  was  splitting  the  current 
into  long  slivers  of  silver,  followed  by  a  string  of 
wobbling,  gliding  forms,  whose  snake-like  necks 
dipped  from  side  to  side  in  the  water. 

"  I  meant,  are  you  afraid  of  the  gun  ?  "  sup 
plemented  Graeham. 

"  I  thought  we  were  not  to  talk  ?  " 

"  You  are  sure  it  won't  jar  you  when  the  gun  goes 
off?" 

"Do  you  suppose  I  never  heard  a  gun  shoot?" 
asked  Miss  Caruth,  with  superb  disdain. 

"  It  is  n't  considered  good  sport  to  look  out  of 
the  hole  all  the  time,"  suggested  Graeham,  his  gaze 
unalterably  upon  the  curve  of  Jane's  cheek,  the  wave 
of  her  hazel  hair  springing  crisply  from  her  brow, 
the  lift  of  her  long  straight  lashes  over  her  forward 
gaze.  A  tide  of  scarcely  to  be  restrained  joy  beat  in 
him,  making  the  blood  pound  in  his  temples  and  his 
heart  labor  in  his  breast.  She  was  his  own ;  and  for 
the  moment,  in  the  swift  tide  of  passion  sweeping1 
him  away,  it  seemed  to  Graeham  that  it  mattered  not 
how.  Yet  even  in  that  moment,  he  weighed  swiftly 
the  chance  of  telling  her  all.  Why  not  risk  it?  But 
like  all  men  with  strong  wills  and  impetuous  impulses, 
Graeham  had  the  fixed  habit  of  restraint,  distrusting 
his  own  impetuosity ;  and  reason  laid  her  coercive 
-+  169  -•- 


THE    WORLD'S    WARRANT 

hand  upon  him  now.  No;  silence  was  best,  safest, 
for  her  —  for  them  both  in  the  future.  She  must 
never  know  that  he  knew. 

"  Why  not?  "  asked  Miss  Caruth,  in  reply  to  his 
hint  on  sporting  form. 

"  The  ducks  will  see  you,"  smiled  Graeham. 

"  They  are  not  looking,"  —  coolly ;  —  "  they  are 
busy  dipping." 

"  By  George  !  "  Graeham  sprang  to  his  knee. 
"  Sit  tight,"  he  commanded  absently,  sighting  along 
the  barrel,  with  his  finger  on  the  trigger.  Miss 
Caruth  gazed  at  him  in  fascinated  terror  for  a  sec 
ond,  and  the  next  had  flung  herself  upon  his  arm, 
shaking  Graeham  to  and  fro  in  her  panic. 

"  Oh,  don't,  don't!"  she  shrieked;  "what  a  shame! 
They  are  so  pretty,  so  happy." 

A  report  from  the  gun  plunged  through  the  golden 
quiet  of  the  afternoon,  followed  instantly  by  the 
other  barrel  exploding  harmlessly  in  the  air.  With 
a  whistling  of  swift  wings  the  ducks,  seen  in  a 
huddle  for  a  second  against  the  sky,  strung  out 
and  sailed  off;  a  puff  of  gray  feathers  afloat  upon 
the  air,  and  a  limp  form  in  the  dog's  mouth,  all 
that  remained  to  tell  the  tale  of  the  afternoon's 
sport. 

Graeham  stared  at  his  companion  in  fast  gather 
ing  indignation,  lost  upon  Miss  Caruth,  whose  face 
was  buried  upon  her  knees,  with  hands  pressed  tight 
upon  her  ears. 

-+  170  H- 


AN    IRKSOME    LIE 


"  Well,  I  '11  be  dog-goned!  "  said  he,  when  he  had 
got  his  breath  ;  "  if  you  are  n't  a  nice  chum  to  go 
duck  shooting  with  !  " 

"  Are  you  done  ? "  murmured  Jane,  raising  her 
face,  sparkling  with  laughter,  from  her  knees.  "  Will 
it  shoot  any  more?" 

"  Done  !  Rather.  One  beggarly  bird  out  of  that 
lot !  Hec,  old  boy,  you  'd  as  well  go  chase  a  rabbit ; 
ducks  are  not  for  us." 

"  If  you  would  like  to  beat  me  with  the  gun,  —  if 
you  'd  feel  more  resigned,  —  you  may,"  suggested 
Jane  meekly. 

Graeham  was  laying  his  gun  aside,  with  elaborate 
finality,  and  did  not  reply. 

"It  is  quite  a  good  bit  of  fun  to  watch  them, 
from  the  hole,"  Miss  Caruth  advanced,  with  a  faint 
suspicion  of  coaxing  in  her  tone. 

"  Oh,  quite  !  "  said  he,  with  blunt  sarcasm,  and 
after  that  no  more  was  said.  Jane  found  a  chestnut 
presently,  and  with  an  air  of  magnanimously  forgiv 
ing  Graeham  for  his  bad  temper,  proffered  him  a 
half.  He  suffered  himself  to  be  forgiven,  and  they 
ate  it  together  like  boy  and  girl. 

"  You  look  like  a  country  girl  to-day,  with  your 
cheeks  all  rosy  and  your  little  muddy  boots,"  said 
Graeham,  lying  at  his  ease  at  Jane's  feet,  with  a  light 
of  deep  contentment  in  his  eyes. 

"  Do  you  care  for  country  girls?"  asked  Miss 
Caruth,  in  an  impersonal  tone.  Graeham  stared  at 

-I-     171     H- 


THE    WORLD'S    WARRANT 

the  green  roof  a  foot  above  his  head,  as  he  consid 
ered. 

"I  had  no  clear  idea  of  what  I  liked  in  a  woman," 
he  said  at  last;  adding,  "until  I  met  you,"  as  though 
he  expected  the  firm  deliberation  of  the  words  to 
palliate  their  significance.  He  went  on  in  a  tone 
of  musing  comradeship,  as  if  the  words  could  mean 
nothing  to  either  of  them. 

"  When  I  was  a  lad  I  was  a  common  fellow,  you 
know,  —  not  a  whit  better  than  the  lot  I  ran  with  ; 
but  even  a  rough  lad  has  his  ideas  about  women, 
and " —  He  arrested  himself,  frankly  leaving  the 
hiatus  unfilled,  and  took  up  his  subject  farther  along. 
"  And  after,  when  I  could  pick  aijd  choose " 
He  broke  off  again,  with  a  smile  this  time.  "  I  'm 
afraid  I  'm  not  altogether  in  character  for  the 
'  picture-paper  Westerner,'  after  all.  I  did  n't  strike 
pay  gravel  in  the  approved  style  ;  I  made  my  money, 
and  I  had  had  time  to  grow  with  it.  But  I  never 
could  shake  the  old  ideas  I  had  when  I  was  a  lad ; 
they  clung  to  me  even.  In  books  and  plays,  they 
call  it  a  man's  ideal?" 

"Yes,"  said  she  softly,  —  "  '  their  vision  splen 
did,'  you  know  ;  but  in  books  and  plays  —  most  of 
them  —  they  say  men  lose  it." 

"I  had  never  lost  mine,  and  I  had  never  realized 
it  until  I  stumbled  in  here  at  Morganton  and  — 
met  you." 

The  duck  lay  upon  the  ground  beside  them;  and 
-H  172  -*- 


AN    IRKSOME    LIE 


as  they  talked,  Miss  Caruth  touched  it  tenderly, 
smoothing  its  iridescent  plumage,  ruffled  by  the 
shot,  with  a  hand  that  was  not  quite  steady.  A 
pang,  compounded  of  irrational  joy  and  equally  irra 
tional  jealousy,  pierced  Graeham,  as  he  noted  among 
the  rings  she  wore  a  narrow  band  of  diamonds. 
When  he  could  think  again,  he  roused  himself  to 
catch  the  end  of  Miss  Caruth's  sentence,  the  begin 
ning  of  which  he  had  not  heard. 

"...  And  of  late  I  have  thought  more  of  it.  It 
has  been  brought  rather  pointedly  to  my  mind,  by  a 
—  by  something  that  has  happened.  I  mean,  just 
how  far  one  should  allow  a  past  experience  to  affect 
a  decision  that  is  of  the  present  and  the  future.  Do 
you  think,  Mr.  Graeham,  that  one  could  —  or  that 
one  should,  if  one  could  —  elide  a  portion  of  one's 
life,  as  one  would  score  out  an  ambiguous  phrase  in 
a  letter?" 

Graeham  paused  upon  his  answer,  yearning  toward 
the  girl  with  an  exquisite  pang,  as  he  met  her  earnest 
eyes  under  tense  brows. 

"  Men  and  women  do  lop  off  dead  years,"  he  be 
gan  gravely,  choosing  his  words  carefully,  —  "barren 
experiences,  futile  hopes,  outlived  fears ;  but  they 
do  not,  I  think,  rid  themselves  altogether  of  them  : 
they  go  on  feeling  them,  like  the  ghost  of  a  severed 
limb,  to  the  end  of  their  lives,  —  and  beyond,  if  life 
has  a  logical  sequence  —  not  the  spectacular  ones 
perhaps,  but  the  vital  ones,  yes." 
-i-  173  +- 


THE    WORLD'S    WARRANT 

Jane's  eyes  were  upon  the  band  of  diamonds  on 
her  finger. 

"  I  put  this  ring  on  to-day,  to  remind  me  to  ask 
you  a  question." 

"To  ask  me?   Me!" 

"  If  it  will  not  bore  you —  Jim  says  you  have  the 
sanest  judgment" 

Graeham  laughed  a  bit  unsteadily  as  he  moved 
away,  that  Jane  might  not  hear  the  pounding  of  his 
heart. 

"If  any  such  luck  as  serving  you  came  my  way, 
I  should  trust  my  judgment,  I  suppose ;  but  my 
judgment  where  you  are  concerned  is  worth  about 
as  much  as  a  compass  in  an  iron  mine,"  he 
wound  up  bluntly.  "  What  is  this  I  am  to  advise 
about?" 

Miss  Caruth  turned  the  ring  about  her  finger 
meditatively,  the  wicked  little  eyes  of  the  diamonds 
seeming  to  spy  out  their  mates  in  Graeham's  trou 
sers'  pocket,  and  wink  with  satiric  intelligence. 

"  It  is  about  love,"  said  Jane  at  last. 

"  The  love  of  a  man  for  a  woman  ?  " 

"  I  only  know  one  side  of  the  story,  but  the  friend 
-I  told  you  it  was  a  friend's  case,  did  I  not? —  the 
friend  is  a  woman,  and  I  think  she  —  she  must  love 
him." 

Her  eyes  were  full  of  troubled  frankness  as  they 
rested  upon  Graeham's. 

"  It  seems  a  little  disingenuous  to  ask  your  ad- 
-t-  174  ••- 


AN    IRKSOME    LIE 


vice  and  give  you  only  half  confidences,  but  there 
is  a  promise,  and  for  her  sake." 

"  I  think  I  see  how  it  is,"  said  Graeham.  "  It  is 
the  other  way  round,  perhaps,  —  the  love  of  a  woman 
for  a  man  ?  " 

"  I  think  so,"  said  Miss  Caruth,  very  low.  She 
did  not  meet  his  eyes,  but  sat  with  downcast  eyes 
upon  the  ring,  slowly  turning  it  about  her  finger. 

"  Ah  ?  Suppose  I  help  you  out  a  bit  ?  Is  there 
another  man  in  the  case?  " 

"  Yes ;  oh,  yes  !  And  she  is  engaged  to  one  of 
them." 

"  And  loves  the  other  fellow?" 

"  How  well  you  understand  !  Yes." 

Graeham  paused  to  steady  his  voice  before  he  went 
on. 

"  I  'in  not  so  sure  I  do.    What 's  the  hitch  ?  " 

"  That  is  what  I  could  not  think  out  —  what  you 
are  to  advise  about,  please.  Is  she  —  do  you  think 
she  is  bound  in  honor  to  tell  him  —  the  man  to  whom 
she  is  engaged,  I  mean  —  about  —  about  the  other, 
or  could  she  "  — 

"Funk  it?"  smiled  Graeham,  with  tender  eyes 
upon  the  girl's  downcast  face.  His  voice  was  a  little 
hoarse  and  unmanageable,  as  he  went  on  gravely : 
"  Women  call  all  sorts  of  things  love,  Miss  Ca 
ruth  ;  but  if  your  friend  loves  this  fellow,  loves 
him,  you  know,  for  all  time  and  eternity  "  —  His 
voice  broke  rebelliously,  but  his  ardent  eyes  car- 
—i-  175  -t— 


THE    WORLD'S    WARRANT 

ried  on  his  meaning.  "  Does  she  love  him  like 
that  ?  " 

Jane  fought  a  moment  with  the  wave  of  color 
that  threatened  to  submerge  her,  struggled  to  keep 
her  lashes  at  a  level  poise  over  gravely  attentive 
eyes,  and  succumbed. 

"  Yes,"  she  whispered,  "  yes  !  " 

And  Graeham,  as  he  lay  at  her  feet,  turned  his  head 
and  pressed  his  lips  to  the  hem  of  her  walking-skirt. 

"  Then  she  must  tell  the  other  man,"  he  said 
thickly;  "and  the  sooner  the  better." 

They  said  no  more  for  a  space,  and  the  silence 
between  them  was  like  a  living  presence,  with  a  hand 
in  each  of  theirs  drawing  them  nearer  to  each  other. 
Jane,  with  her  face  turned  from  Graeham,  pulled 
nervously  at  a  feather  in  the  duck's  wing. 

"  Let  me,"  said  he  absently ;  and  thrusting  a  fin 
ger  beneath  it,  drew  it  forth.  A  drop  of  blood 
clung  to  its  end,  and  Graeham  searched  his  pockets 
vainly  for  a  scrap  of  paper. 

"Wait,"  said  Jane;  and  thrusting  her  hand  within 
her  coat,  drew  out  a  couple  of  unopened  letters. 
Without  glancing  at  the  addresses,  she  stripped  the 
envelope  from  one  and  handed  it  to  Graeham. 

Across  it  was  written,  in  his  own  handwriting,  the 
name :  "  Miss  Mary  Meadows,  Morganton,  Alabama." 
He  slipped  the  feather  within  it,  and  dropping  back 
to  his  place  lay  staring  at  the  green  canes  above 
his  head,  with  eyes  that  saw  them  not. 


WHY    BLAME    THE    BRASS? 


CHAPTER  X 

"  Why  should  I  blame   the   brass   that  burnished  up  will 
blaze  to  all  but  me  as  good  as  gold  ?  " 

THERE  was  a  steadily  rising  gale  of  merriment  in 
Mrs.  Carlysle's  reception  room,  where  the  water 
party,  muddy  but  hilarious,  was  partaking  of  after 
noon  tea  with  the  guests  arrived  by  the  later  after 
noon  train,  for  the  ball  that  night.  The  talk  was  of 
the  sort  that  gayly  flouts  the  term  conversation,  dis 
daining  the  staid  vehicle  of  question  and  reply,  and 
relying  frankly  upon  pitch  as  a  medium  of  commu 
nication.  The  men  present,  in  a  ratio  of  a  dozen  to 
every  woman,  were  busily  booking  engagements  for 
the  ball  that  night, — with  laughing  shrewdness,  and 
a  very  business-like  appreciation  of  the  value  of  the 
bird  in  the  hand  over  its  problematical  mate  in  the 
bush,  —  with  girls  who,  with  a  no  less  provident  eye 
upon  the  main  chance,  "  reserved  spaces "  for  the 
fish  in  the  sea  who  might  be  as  good,  and,  for  all 
one  knew,  a  lot  better  than  the  one  wriggling  on  the 
hook. 

Graeham's  strenuous  programme  had  taxed  the  lit 
tle  colony  severely  in  the  way  of  femininity,  and  the 
two  tiny  wrinkles  that  had  adorned  Mrs.  Carlysle's 
brow  intermittently  for  days  past,  threatened  to  be- 
— t-  177  -t— 


THE    WORLD'S    WARRANT 

come  permanent.  They  were  augmented  this  after 
noon  by  an  air  of  tragic  calm,  as  she  tucked  a 
note  into  her  girdle  and  glanced  about  the  room  for 
Graeham. 

She  discovered  him,  the  centre  of  a  bunch  of  girls, 
to  whom  he  had  just  been  introduced,  and  stood 
watching  him  a  minute  smilingly  before  calling  him. 
Graeham  was  concentrating  himself  with  frowning 
gravity  upon  the  pith  ball  of  talk  they  were  lightly 
keeping  in  the  air,  naively  losing  his  footing  every 
other  minute  in  the  slippery  sands  of  their  gay  in 
nuendo,  and  the  many  piled  meanings  that  flickered 
from  eye  to  eye  among  them.  He  was  floundering 
heavily,  as  she  easily  made  out,  in  spite  of  the  oil  the 
girls  were  spreading  upon  the  waters  for  him.  Mrs. 
Carlysle  faced  him,  as  he  reached  her  side,  with  the 
air  of  being  at  her  last  ditch  and  her  last  round  of 
ammunition. 

"  What  is  it?"  inquired  Graeham,  visibly  bracing 
himself  to  bear  the  blow. 

"  The  most  tiresome  thing  possible !  I  particu 
larly  dislike  unexpectedness  in  people,  do  not  you, 
Mr.  Graeham?  The  gravest  fault — a  crudity  even 
—  would  be  bearable,  if  it  were  only  consistent.  A 
note  from  Miss  Cotes  worth  —  so  inconsiderate  of 
her  !  Why,  she  has  sprained  her  ankle  at  the  very 
last  moment.  Now,  yesterday,  or  the  day  before,  it 
would  not  have  mattered  in  the  least." 

"  A  sprained  ankle  is  no  joke,"  said  Graeham, 
-i.  178  4- 


WHY    BLAME    THE    BRASS? 

with  earnest  sympathy;  "and  I  hardly  think  she  did 
it  on  purpose,  do  you?" 

"  Perhaps  not,"  conceded  Mrs.  Carlysle,  with  a 
tender,  quizzical  glance  at  Graeham,  that  greatly 
surprised  him;  "  though  it  really  does  not  matter  in 
the  least  if  she  did,  as  long  as  she  has  thrown  us 
out  this  way.  The  question  is,  Mr.  Graeham,  whom 
can  we  put  in  her  place  ?  " 

Graeham  carried  his  glance  alertly  about  the 
room,  sparkling  with  women's  faces,  and  returned 
to  his  companion's  face  of  dramatic  intensity  with  a 
smile. 

"Haven't  we  enough  women?  I  never  saw  such 
a  lot  before,  except  in  a  ballet.  And  keen !  George ! 
that  black-eyed  one,  with  dimples,  has  the  nerve  of 
a  life  assurance  association." 

"Never  mind  that  now,"  returned  Mrs.  Carlysle 
absorbedly ;  "  keep  out  of  Grace  De  Resett's  way 
until  I  have  time  to  tell  you  what  to  do.  Jane  can 
lead,  in  Miss  Cotesworth's  place,  but  —  but  Peter 
Clark?  It  leaves  Peter  without  a  partner." 

"Is  that  all?    Cut  Clark  out." 

Mrs.  Carlysle  passed  this  with  judicial  calm. 

"Who?  Who?"  she  mused  desperately.  "  We  — 
just  —  simply  —  must  — have  —  a  woman,  if  we  have 
to  put  a  man  into  a  gown  !  My  things  could  be  made 
to  fit  Teddy  Chapman,"  she  went  on  meditatively, 
eyeing  young  Chapman  with  a  glance  that  took  his 
latitude  and  longitude.  "  Men  are  very  compressible, 
-+  179  +- 


THE    WORLD'S    WARRANT 

you  know ;  and  after  he  had  been  taken  in  a  little 
in  the  waist  "  — 

"  But  Chapman  would  be  such  a  brute  in  a  gown, 
none  of  the  other  fellows  would  take  him  out,  and 
we  'd  be  just  where  we  were,"  urged  Graeham,  with 
a  remonstrant  frown.  "  Let 's  think  of  something 
else." 

"What  else?  What  possible  equivalent  is  there 
for  a  woman  !  "  with  despairing  logic. 

"  What  the  deuce  are  you  two  talking  about?  " 
asked  Carlysle  curiously,  over  his  wife's  shoulder,  as 
he  joined  them.  "  There  's  no  use  wasting  talk  like 
that  on  Graeham,  Kate.  /  might  make  a  stagger  at 
solving  feminine  X  Y  Z  's,  but  Graeham  !  " 

The  situation  was  made  plain  to  him,  with  dramatic 
pauses  and  much  tense  play  of  his  wife's  fine  brows, 
and  he  promptly  soared  to  the  occasion  with  an  in 
spirational  suggestion. 

"  What 's  the  matter  with  our  little  guest  from 
1  She-car-go  '  ?  She  '11  fill  the  bill." 

Graeham's  face  reflected  Carlysle's  own  satisfac 
tion  at  his  suggestion,  but  Mrs.  Carlysle's  displayed 
a  vacuum,  faintly  tinged  with  reproof. 

"  Think  of  some  one  else,  dear,"  she  murmured 
gently. 

"  Don't  trample  on  me,  Kate,"  laughed  Carlysle, 

"  with  that  i  stony  British  stare.'    If  you  want  to 

swear  at  me,  well  and   good ;  but  I  refuse  to  be 

1  gorgonized.'   '  Impropriety  '?  I  '11  lay  either  of  you 

-+  180  -•- 


WHY    BLAME    THE    BRASS? 

any  odds  you  like,  that  little  Callie's  blood  is  as  blue 
—  if  that's  the  hitch — as  Miss  Cotesworth's,  and 
she  simply  is  n't  in  it  with  Gallic,  for  looks.  Run 
her  in,  Kate;  and  give  the  girl  a  bit  of  fun,  do.  The 
house  is  full  of  strangers,  and  who  is  to  know? 
Besides,  she  's  the  daughter  of  a  dear  old  chum  of 
mine  —  or  the  sister, —  sister  of  a  college  chum,  old 
John  Larkin,  bless  him;  haven't  thought  of  him 
for  ages  until  he  wrote  that  his  sister  was  passing 
through.  You'd  take  the  inspiration  out  of  Bee 
thoven,  Kate!  What  if  Alabama  isn't  on  the  way 
to  anywhere  ?  Besides,  it  is ;  it 's  on  the  way  to 
Florida.  Slue  round  a  bit ;  it 's  not  necessary  to 
be  categorical  —  detail  is  horribly  vulgar.  She  's 
going  on  '  further,'  and  stopped  over  a  night  en 
route,  eh,  Graeham  ?  " 

"Good!"  said  Graeham,  with  a  laugh.  "Miss 
Larkin  is  quite  a  chum  of  mine." 

Mrs.  Carlysle  consulted  their  faces,  with  more  tense 
play  of  brows. 

"  Is  this  one  of  your  little  variations  from  the 
normal,  Jim  ?  " 

"  Not  at  all !  I  never  was  saner  in  my  life." 

"  But  her  grammar  !  Think  of  her  grammar,  both 
of  you  !  Fancy,  just  fancy  her,  if  you  please,  saying 
'shucks  ! '  in  the  middle  of  the  cotillon.  I  beg  par 
don,  she  is  quite  capable  of  it." 

"  Do  you  suppose,"  began  Carlysle,  in  the  bored 
tone  of  a  man  forced  to  argue  a  perfectly  obvious 
-«•  181  i- 


THE    WORLD'S    WARRANT 

proposition,  "do  either  of  you  suppose — Graeham, 
I  put  it  to  you  as  a  man  —  that  any  man  in  his  senses, 
and  with  his  eyesight,  would  bother  about  what  sort 
of  grammar  issued  from  a  mouth  like  Callie's?" 

"  I  have  so  often  pointed  out  to  you,  dear,  that 
mouths  are  the  stronghold  of  character;  and  Callie's 
mouth  is  her  worst  feature.  Really  nice  women 
never  have  those  deep  dimpled  corners  to  their 
mouths.  Do  you  suppose  she  can  dance,  either  of 
you?" 

"  Why,  she  dances  all  the  time,"  put  in  Graeham 
indiscreetly,  —  "  even  when  she  sweeps." 

"  Sweeps  ? ':  Mrs.  Carlysle's  glance  was  slightly 
speculative.  "  Callie  is  not  a  maid.  If  she  were,  it 
would  be  quite  impossible.  And  as  it  is,  if  anything 
dreadful  happens  "  — 

"  Graeham  and  I  are  to  blame,"  smiled  her  hus 
band.  "  Come,  I  '11  make  you  a  business  proposition ; 
if  you  and  Jane  will  rig  her  out,  Graeham  and  I  will 
assume  her  social  liabilities.  Come  now,  that 's  fair 
enough." 

Mrs.  Carlysle  weighed  them  contemplatively  as 
Callie's  social  sureties. 

"After  a  men's  dinner,  Jim,"  she  vouchsafed  him 
suavely,  "you  'd  assume  anything." 

As  ten  o'clock  drew  on,  a  hushed  expectancy  in 
vaded  the  big  hotel,  that  lay  in  the  midst  of  the  black 
fields  about  it,  like  the  beast  in  the  Apocalypse  glow- 

-t-  182  +- 


WHY    BLAME    THE    BRASS? 

ing  with  eyes  before  and  behind ;  while  the  winter 
stars,  wheeling  their  silent  courses  above  it,  marked 
the  flight  of  the  fevered  hours  within. 

The  empty  ballroom,  with  its  myriad  lights  splin 
tering  long  lances  on  the  polished  floor,  held  its 
breath  in  glittering  silence;  but  from  the  distant 
dining-room,  where  Graeham,  a  somewhat  absent- 
minded  host,  presided,  gusts  of  men's  laughter  rose, 
accompanied  by  the  quick  patter  of  applause,  follow 
ing  some  speaker's  rolling  periods  or  the  stuttering 
brilliancy  of  old  Lossing's  toasts. 

Meantime,  above  stairs,  the  real  business  of  the  day 
went  forward,  amid  an  impressive  hush.  Behind  the 
long  rows  of  closed  doors,  the  women  were  dressing 
for  the  ball. 

In  her  slip  of  a  room  at  the  top  of  the  house, 
Callie  stood  before  her  eight-inch  mirror,  looking 
through  it  to  the  "  vision  of  the  world  and  all  the 
wonders  that  would  be."  The  hour  was  the  girl's 
apotheosis.  She  was  being  born  anew,  into  an  even 
ing  gown.  Her  soul  had  been  born  in  the  moment 
when,  for  the  first  time  in  her  life,  she  saw  the  tinted 
ivory  of  her  bust  rising  from  the  rose-colored  folds 
of  her  low  corsage;  and,  for  good  or  evil,  Callie  knew 
herself  to  be  a  winged  spirit,  with  dominion  over  the 
hearts  of  men. 

She  wore  a  ball  gown  of  Miss  Caruth's,  of  deep  rose- 
colored  gauze  garnished  with  trailing  sprays  of  wild 
roses,  and  from  beneath  its  folds  her  slender  feet 
-*-  18o  •*- 


THE    WORLD'S    WARRANT 

with  high-arched  insteps  peeped  forth,  clad  in  the 
envied  rose-colored  slippers  that  she  had  described  to 
Graeham ;  the  polished  whiteness  of  her  long  arms 
was  half  obscured  by  the  folds  of  her  gloves,  and  a 
fan  of  curling,  rose-hued  tips  drooped  languidly  from 
one  hand;  heavy  strands  of  rose-hued  coral  were 
about  her  neck  and  waist.  She  stood  before  the 
mirror  entranced,  and  with  half-shut  eyes  slowly 
raised  and  let  fall  the  folds  of  gauze  over  the  silk 
petticoat  beneath,  the  rustle  of  the  silk  thrilling  her 
with  the  rush  of  emotions  that  moment  born.  The 
girl's  nature  trembled  to  its  crisis.  Heredity,  folded 
like  a  bud  within  her,  stirred  and  burst  its  shallow 
calyx.  Marthy  McGuion,  reckless,  seductive,  smiled 
back  from  the  dim  little  mirror,  reincarnate  in  the 
rose-colored  folds.  She  bent  backward,  supplely, 
and,  with  eyes  still  upon  her  image,  caught  up  the 
train  of  her  gown  and  flung  it  with  dainty  elegance 
over  her  arm ;  and  as  she  did  so,  the  curve  of  her 
long  throat,  the  droop  of  her  lashes  over  beryl- 
tinted  eyes,  pierced  her  with  a  pang  of  sensuous  joy 
and  triumph.  She  longed,  with  a  longing  as  im 
perative  as  thirst,  to  see  the  full  sweep  of  the  folds 
about  her  form,  the  lustre  on  the  satin  richness  of 
her  skin ;  but  the  sullen  bit  of  mirror  gloomed  back 
at  her,  tantalizing  her  with  fleeting  glimpses  only. 
At  any  other  time  her  pass-key  would  have  admitted 
her  to  a  dozen  empty  rooms,  where  she  might  have 
gloated  at  her  pleasure ;  but  to-night  the  house  was 
-+  184  -K- 


WHY    BLAME    THE    BRASS? 

running  over  with  guests.  Gallic  ran  the  rooms  over 
in  her  mind,  as  she  pouted  disdainfully  at  the  de 
spised  mirror.  Then  temptation  jogged  her  elbow. 
Graeham's  rooms  would  be  empty  at  this  hour. 
Graeham  himself  was  safe  at  the  dinner  party.  She 
hesitated,  with  the  inevitable  result.  A  moment 
later,  with  her  rose-hued  robes  of  mirth  tucked  up, 
she  was  speeding  down  the  servants'  stairway  to 
Graeham's  rooms.  Come  what  might,  she  must  have 
one  look,  one  distracting  swirl  of  those  rose-colored 
skirts  in  the  mirror  lights. 

Her  heart  beat  quickly  as  she  turned  on  the  lights 
at  the  mirror,  but  one  glance  within  swept  prudence 
from  her  mind.  She  preened  daintily,  like  a  white 
pigeon  on  the  roof  in  the  sunlight;  each  touch  of 
her  unconsciously  adept  fingers,  like  a  sculptor's 
chisel,  refining  into  elegance  some  commonplace  line, 
or  bringing  into  prominence  some  hitherto  unsus 
pected  grace. 

Yet  to  her  newly  awakened  consciousness,  for  all 
her  loveliness,  there  was  some  vague  want,  some 
thing  lacking  that  should  be  there.  She  stepped 
back  from  the  mirror  and,  poised  in  one  of  Miss 
Caruth's  attitudes,  looked  critically  at  her  own  reflec 
tion.  It  was  an  admirable  rendition  of  the  spirited 
and  finished  grace  of  Miss  Caruth's  manner,  and 
extending  her  hand  to  some  shadowy  courtier,  who 
appeared  to  be  advancing  to  meet  her  from  mir 
ror  land,  she  walked  forward  airily  to  meet  him; 

-H-  185  H- 


but  in  the  act  she  paused,  fascinated  by  her  own 
beauty. 

"  I  'm  prettier  'n  her,"  she  mused  slowly,  aloud,  as 
though  the  triumphant  knowledge  could  not  longer 
be  contained  in  her  own  bosom.  "  Gran'ma  was  er 
'ristocrat  befo'  th'  wah,  'n'  I  look  like  th'  befo'-th'- 
wah  folkses  in  the  pictures  in  pa's  old  house  in  Pike. 
It 's  my  old  house,  —  'n'  Chinquepin  is  mine,  —  'n'  — 
'n' — Peter.  But  I  don't  want  none  er  them;  not 
none  uv  them.  I  want  him." 

The  thought  was  imperative  enough  to  drag  her 
eyes  from  the  mirror,  and  she  wandered  about  the 
room  sunk  in  thought,  beating  her  gloved  hands  to 
gether  softly,  in  a  gesture  full  of  futile,  passionate 
regret. 

"  'F  I  'd  on'y  told  him  at  first !  'F  I  on'y  had  ! 
He  'd  er  overlooked  it  -  -  'n'  I  could  make  him  love 
me.  'F  I'd  on'y  met  him  like  I  am  to-night!  But  I 
ken  make  him  love  me  —  I  ken,  I  ken  !  Th'  money 
may  go  —  pooh!  money;  'n'  Peter — all,  all  except "- 
She  did  not  finish  the  sentence,  but  for  a  moment 
a  mist  dimmed  the  radiance  of  her  eyes;  she  raised 
her  hand  absently  to  her  bosom,  as  though  a  baby's 
head  lay  there  and  she  hushed  it  to  sleep. 

She  was  too  restless  amid  the  conflict  of  her 
thoughts,  of  the  vague  new  possibilities  that  she  felt 
about  her  like  wings  brushing  her  in  the  darkness, 
to  be  still ;  and  she  resumed  her  aimless  walk,  paus 
ing  at  last  beside  the  writing-table  to  mechanically 
-+  186  H- 


WHY    BLAME    THE    BRASS? 

straighten  the  articles  upon  it.  A  half-smoked  cigar 
lay  beside  the  blotter,  closed  upon  some  written 
sheets  upon  which  the  ink  seemed  scarce  dry,  as 
Callie  pored  over  them  with  knitted  brows  and 
flushed  cheeks.  It  was  difficult  work  for  her;  but 
she  stumbled  on,  following  the  sense  with  difficulty, 
-  now  losing  it  altogether,  now  helped  by  her  par 
tial  knowledge  of  the  text  of  the  letter  itself  to 
unravel  the  skein,  —  and  at  last,  with  panting  bosom 
and  angry  eyes,  dragging  its  meaning  from  it  as  it 
were  by  main  force. 

She  did  not  move  when  she  had  finished  it,  but 
stood  in  a  trance  of  thought,  her  form  seeming  to 
stiffen  as  she  stood.  She  was  not  consciously  plan 
ning  ;  but  her  brain,  with  its  odd,  left-handed  func 
tioning,  reached  forward  to  a  decision  which  seemed 
independent  of  any  intermediate  process  of  reason. 

As  she  replaced  the  sheets,  a  smile  as  inconse 
quent  and  malicious  as  a  water-pixie's  trembled  at 
the  corners  of  her  mouth,  and  she  struck  her  hands 
together  with  a  gesture  of  uncertain  triumph. 

"  It 's  not  '  honorable '  to  deceive  him,  she  said 
to-night !  He  must  be  told  —  told  erbout  Mary 
Meadows's  '  past.'  0  God  !  won't  they  never  let  me 
furgit  it!  I  cannot  be  good  when  I  remember  — 
cannot  !  She  may  tell  him  —  now,"  she  ended 
slowly,  with  hands  clinched  at  her  sides,  "  jest  as 
soon  as  ever  she  likes  —  now." 

A  line  of  sweat  broke  out  upon  her  delicate  lip, 
-+  187  H- 


THE    WORLD'S    WARRANT 

as  she  stood  like  a  creature  braced  in  mortal  combat 
against  herself.  A  bitter,  nauseating  consciousness 
of  herself  rose  in  her  mind  like  gall,  as  she  saw  her 
self  through  the  eyes  of  Carlysle  and  Miss  Caruth. 
In  the  sharp  glare  of  humiliation  she  saw  herself  a 
pariah,  half  scorned,  half  pitied  by  them  ;  an  out 
cast  whom  they  had  touched  with  their  finger  ends 
in  gingerly  charity.  The  grisly  memory  of  the  night 
when  she  had  returned  to  her  father's  house  with 
her  child,  rose  like  a  visible  presence  of  desolation, 
dimming  her  beauty  with  its  black  shadow  of  shame ; 
the  horror  of  the  words  he  had  used  to  her  froze  her 
eyes,  as  she  recalled  them  in  their  primitive  Biblical 
frankness ;  her  mother's  shame  that  he  had  flung  in 
her  shrinking  face — all  rushed  upon  her  and  struck 
her  down.  Graeham  would  think  the  same  if  he 
knew.  He  would  use  just  such  words  as  her  father 
had  used ;  would  call  her  —  A  smothered  cry  rose 
in  her  throat. 

"I'm  not,"  she  sobbed,  with  dry  sobs;  "  I  'm  not 
that !  Not  what  they  think.  I  'm  not  —  I  'm  not ! 
'F  I  had  er  chanst  they  'd  see.  We  was  'ristocrats 
befo'  th'  wah." 

The  sound  of  the  opening  door  roused  her,  and 
wheeling  swiftly,  she  met  Graeham's  amused  eyes  as 
he  came  forward  from  the  sitting-room  beyond. 

"  Primping  by  my  mirror,  eh  ? "  he  said  good- 
naturedly.  "  So  you  are  going  to  the  ball  ?  " 

He  glanced  her  over  with  careless   admiration, 

-H    188    H- 


WHY    BLAME    THE    BRASS? 

that  melted  into  something'  warmer  as  the  full 
measure  of  her  beauty  had  time  to  sink  into  his 
senses. 

"  You  're  a  corker  in  evening  dress  !  And  you 
got  the  little  pink  gown  —  and  the  boots  ?  " 

Too  shaken  with  the  agitation  of  the  moment 
before  to  speak,  Gallic  silently  advanced  one  pretty 
foot  for  Graeham's  inspection.  Anger  had  given 
her  a  tremulous  agitation,  flushing  her  cheeks  and 
deepening  her  eyes,  until  in  sober  prose  they  were 
what  Clark  had  called  them,  —  the  color  of  the  mid 
night  sky.  The  long  folds  of  her  gown  about  her 
on  the  floor  added  a  new  and  bewitching  dignity  to 
her  form ;  in  her  rose-colored  draperies  she  looked 
a  great  lady  to  her  fingers'  ends,  and  Graeham's  eyes 
told  her  so  with  reckless  frankness. 

"  Do  you  like  my  dress  —  gown  ?  " 

"Do  I?"  Graeham  came  a  step  nearer  her,  his 
eyes  alight  with  admiration.  "  You  're  as  pretty  as 
a  red,  red  rose  !  " 

"  You  said  I  was  n't  —  once." 

"I  lied.  You  need  something  to  shine,  in  that 
lace."  He  stepped  to  the  table  and  overturned  his 
case  of  pins,  and  selecting  several,  bent  to  pin 
them  in,  his  hand  against  the  warm  whiteness  of 
her  shoulder.  "  And  your  hair  is  n't  right.  Girls 
wear  things  in  that  built-up  part  when  they  go  to 
dances  —  Wait." 

Standing  behind  her,  Graeham  detached  a  rose 
-H  189  -*- 


THE    WORLD'S    WARRANT 

from  her  corsage  and  placed  it  awkwardly  in  her 
hair.  Callie  stood  motionless,  scarce  breathing,  an 
intoxicating  sense  of  power  filling  her  like  a  draught 
of  strong  wine,  as  her  eyes  met  Graeham's  in  the 
mirror,  reading  in  them  a  sequel  to  the  hour  that  he 
little  dreamed  of.  They  contemplated  the  effect  of 
the  rose  together,  in  silence.  Callie's  slight,  brilliant 
figure  thrown  out  against  the  black  and  white  of 
Graeham's  dress ;  his  strong,  dark  head  contrasted 
with  the  vivid  delicacy  of  hers,  —  floated  upon  the 
clear  surface  of  the  mirror  like  a  softly  tinted 
water-color.  It  caught  Graeham's  eye ;  and  with  an 
amused  consciousness  of  attitudinizing,  he  dropped 
his  arms  about  the  girl  in  the  conventional  stage 
embrace,  and  stood  looking  down  upon  her  with  a 
smile. 

"  Don't  we  make  a  dandy  water-color  ?  What  a 
magnificent  pose —  so,  a  little  this  way.  Jove,  how 
lovely  you  are  in  this  pink  gown  !  Some  chap 's 
going  to  go  mad  over  you  some  day,  do  you  know 
it,  Callie  ?  He  '11  pour  out  his  money  like  sand  at 
your  feet." 

With  a  supple  turn  she  faced  him,  slipping  her 
arms  about  his  neck,  holding  him  off  to  look  into 
his  eyes,  with  her  black  brows  gathered  stormily, 
her  breath  fluttering  in  her  bosom. 

"His  money  !  "  she  echoed,  with  tremulous  scorn  ; 
"  I  don't  want  none  uv  his  money.  'F  he  could  n't 
pour  out  his  love  —  his  self  —  his  heart,  at  my  feet, 
-i-  190  -i- 


WHY    BLAME    THE    BRASS? 

I  would  n't  —  would  n't  "  Her  voice  broke,  and 
Graeham's  eyes,  hot  with  admiration,  steadied  into 
what  was  very  nearly  tenderness. 

"Not?"  he  said  gently,  noting  with  wonder  the 
stormy  heaving  of  her  bosom,  the  passionate  inten 
sity  of  her  face,  where  the  color  had  slipped  away. 
"  Foolish  little  child !  Suppose  he  had  nothing  else 
to  give  ?  " 

"  Why  not  ?  "  she  demanded  passionately.  "  Why 
should  I  not  have  his  love  ?  Why  must  she  have  all 
—  all,  'n'  me  nothin' ?  I'm  prettier 'n  her." 

"  Prettier  than  whom,  child  ?"  inquired  Graeham, 
roused  by  her  passion.  "  What  are  you  talking 
about?" 

"  Than  Miss  Caruth." 

Graeham  recoiled  sharply  ;  he  unlocked  her  hands 
from  his  neck,  and  put  her  from  him  in  silence. 

"  Don't  ever  mention  Miss  Caruth's  name  to  me 
again,"  he  said  quietly. 

Callie  stood  motionless  where  he  had  left  her,  her 
hands  clinched  at  her  sides,  her  eyes  like  brilliant 
agates,  touched  with  the  bravado  of  the  gambler 
who  has  doubled  his  stake  and  lost  it. 

"  Air  she  too  good  fur  me  to  call  her  name  ?  " 
she  demanded  passionately. 

"  Yes,"  said  Graeham  coldly. 

The  word  struck  the  girl  like  a  blow,  and  for  a 
second  the  very  flesh  upon  her  bones  recoiled  under 
it ;  then  she  answered  to  it  as  a  racer  might  answer 

-H     191     -I- 


THE    WORLD'S    WARRANT 

to  the  lash  across  his  flank,  with  a  tremor  as  her  stif 
fening  muscles  drew  her  rigidly  erect.  Facing-  Grae- 
ham  with  superb  assertion,  she  measured  him  with  a 
glance  of  cold,  controlled  scorn,  —  the  scorn  whose 
cutting  edge  is  not  the  resentment  of  an  equal  so 
much  as  the  reproof  of  a  superior. 

"  You  air  mistaken,  Mr.  Graeham,"  she  told  him 
with  level  incisiveness,  that  sent  her  meaning  home 
with  the  simple  assertion  of  the  fact,  disdaining 
asseveration  ;  "  my  folkses  were  'ristocrats  befo'  th* 
wah." 

Graeham  moved  restlessly.  "  It  is  n't  that,"  he 
interrupted  her,  regarding  her  with  thoughtful  eyes 
as  she  stood  before  him,  every  line  in  her  beauti 
ful  form  breathing  an  arrogant  pride  of  birth ;  the 
haughty  curve  of  her  throat,  the  imperious  bend 
of  her  brow,  the  insolent  droop  of  her  lashes  over 
a  glance  of  icy  restraint,  —  speaking  the  inalien 
able  consciousness  of  caste.  "  It  is  n't  that ;  I  've 
always  known  you  had  good  blood.  That  don't 
count." 

"  Bein'  er  'ristocrat  don't  count  ?  "  she  echoed 
blankly.  "  Then  what  does  count  ?  " 

Graeham's  glance,  half  speculative,  half  pitiful, 
rested  upon  her  in  silence.  He  shuddered  slightly  as 
the  perfectness  of  her  beauty,  vivified,  almost  enno 
bled,  by  the  feeling  that  swayed  her,  penetrated 
his  senses,  like  an  essence  that  deadens  the  nerves 
through  excess  of  sweetness. 
-h  192  H- 


WHY    BLAME    THE    BRASS? 

"The  only  thing  that  counts  with  me  —  if  you 
mean  me  —  is  the  one  thing  you  lack." 

"  What  do  I  lack  ?  "  she  demanded,  confronting 
him  with  a  courage  that  was  as  far  from  hardihood 
as  it  was  pitifully  far  from  innocence.  "  What  do  I 
lack  that —  that  Miss  Caruth  has  ?  " 

"I   cannot  tell  you,"  he  said  gently,  "  unless  — 
Stay  ;  I  called  you  a  red  rose  a  bit  ago.    Well," 
he  looked  gravely  down  into  the  eyes  she  raised  to 
his  own,  full  of  insistent  question,  —  "  well,  there 
are  roses,  you  know,  child,  and  there  are  —  stars." 

"  Why  —  why"  —  she  stammered  breathlessly. 

"...  Men  want  the  stars  because  they  can't  get 
them;  and  they  do  not  care  for  the  roses  because  " 
With  a  storm  of  color  she  took  his  meaning  at  last, 
and  with  a  long  light  step  reached  his  side,  and 
raising  her  gloved  hand  struck  him  fiercely  across 
the  lips. 

She  stood  an  instant  longer  facing  him,  with  head 
erect,  her  eyes  dark  with  inexplicable  meanings,  — 
a  swooning  pride,  an  agony  of  shame,  of  anger,  of 
despair ;  turned  upon  him ;  then  gathering  up  her 
rose-colored  skirts  she  left  him,  walking  proudly  with 
unlowered  head  from  his  sight. 


CHAPTER  XI 

"  Love 's  so  different  with  us  men  !  " 

THE  paneled  room,  which  had  been  converted  into 
a  ballroom  for  Graeham's  use,  was  considered  the 
Midland's  crack  exhibit. 

Its  conception  had  been  a  spark  struck  from 
Carlysle's  versatile  genius,  as  a  tribute  to  the  land 
the  gods  of  Morganton  had  made  their  own;  and 
it  was,  indeed,  a  dignified  and  splendid  embodiment 
of  the  enthusiastic  loyalty  of  the  young  financiers 
for  their  adopted  State,  as  well  as  a  naively  shrewd 
advertisement  of  her  resources.  It  was  a  nobly  pro 
portioned  room,  paneled  in  quartered  oak  hewn 
from  the  Development  Company's  own  lands,  half 
way  to  the  groined  and  vaulted  ceiling ;  the  inter 
vening  space,  divided  into  medallions  by  scones  of 
dull  silver,  was  decorated  by  a  series  of  exquisite 
views  from  the  surrounding  landscape.  Crawdorn, 
an  erratic  young  genius,  who  in  a  fit  of  divine  sulks 
with  his  muse  had  thrown  in  his  lot  with  the  Devel 
opment  Companv,  in  the  first  "fine  careless  rapture" 
of  his  passion  for  Alabama,  had  spent  himself  unstint 
edly  upon  his  paintings,  grasping  with  fine  artistic 
sense  the  buoyant  spirit  of  the  land  beneath  its  lan 
guorous  serenity.  He  had  fixed  forever  upon  his 
-h  194  +- 


SO    DIFFERENT   WITH    MEN 

canvas  the  subtle  fascination  of  the  South  to  these 
hard-headed  young  business  men,  who  had  come  to 
Alabama  to  make  money  and  found  themselves  con 
strained  to  make  love,  enamoured  against  their  wills 
by  the  soft  seductive  witchery  of  a  land  "  where 
it  is  always  afternoon."  He  had  caught  and  prisoned 
on  his  canvas  the  soul  of  the  landscape,  in  glimpses 
of  dim  blue  mountain  ranges  veiled  in  mist ;  the 
brown,  mysterious  aisles  of  endless  pine  woods ; 
the  zigzag  flight  of  a  covey  of  partridges  across  a 
cornfield ;  a  spit  of  silver-green  cane  hiding  a  wild 
duck's  nest ;  Chinquepin  in  her  lovely  Undine  mood 
singing  among  the  pines,  or  a  rugged  bit  of  the  open 
country  strewn  with  ore-veined  rocks  ;  a  stretch  of 
the  river  like  a  nether  sky,  "  winding  clearly  to  the 
sea." 

Over  the  chimney-piece  the  panel  was  built  solidly 
into  the  wall,  and  showed  in  the  background  a  dim 

7  O 

land  in  ruins,  —  a  dead  land,  stark  and  cold,  one  felt 
it  to  be,  —  half  hidden  by  bands  of  mist,  like  a 
winding-sheet  across  its  face.  The  only  touch  of 
light  amid  the  browns  and  grays  and  dusky  purples 
of  the  landscape,  was  a  band  of  clear  orange  behind 
the  mountains.  It  was  the  orange  that  precedes 
sunrise,  and  its  light  fell  full  upon  a  lovely  female 
form  in  the  foreground,  standing  with  strong,  white 
arms  extended  toward  the  east,  her  noble,  beautiful 
face  turned  back  across  her  shoulder  to  the  dead 
land  at  her  feet ;  and,  so  perfectly  had  the  artist 
-i-  195  +- 


THE    WORLD'S    WARRANT 

interpreted  the  spirit  of  the  country  that  he  painted, 
the  smile  of  hope  upon  the  frank  young  mouth  of 
the  New  South,  and  the  deep  glance  that  she  cast 
backward  full  of  love  and  renunciation,  were  touched 
with  a  trace  of  the  martyrdom  that  has  been  the 
portion  of  those  who  have  lived,  no  less  than  those 
who  have  died,  for  Dixie. 

The  room  was  without  upholstery,  depending  for 
its  expression  upon  its  wall  decorations ;  and  the 
lights  that  struck  upward  from  the  polished  oaken 
floor  were  lost  in  the  mellow  shade  above  or  absorbed 
by  masses  of  palms  that  were  grouped  about  the 
archways,  softening  the  vistas  in  every  direction 
with  an  effect  austerely  simple.  The  great  room  was 
empty,  save  for  the  musicians  behind  their  screen 
of  palms,  waiting  like  a  great  undaubed  canvas  for 
its  figures. 

The  ball  hung  upon  the  host,  and  Graeham  upon 
Mrs.  Carlysle,  who  awaited  in  her  reception-room, 
with  visible  nervousness,  the  appearance  of  her  hus 
band,  who  had  been  despatched  to  fetch  their  guest, 
Miss  Larkin  from  Chicago,  who,  en  route  to  Florida, 
had  stopped  a  night  with  the  Carlysles.  Peter  Clark, 
Miss  Larkin's  partner  in  the  cotillion,  waited  beside 
Mrs.  Carlysle  with  his  usual  graceful  impassivity, 
that  covered  to-night  a  profound  indifference,  only 
half  hearing  the  lady's  gracious  explanations. 

"  A  special  providence,  Peter,  —  nothing  short  of 
it !  Yes,  —  the  daughter  of  an  old  friend  of  Jim's, 
-+  196  4- 


or  a  sister,  it  is.  Chicago  !  '  No  good  cometh  out 
of  Nazareth  ?  '  Fie,  for  shame  !  Wait  until  you  see 
Gallic,  and  be  properly  ashamed  of  your  heresy. 
Yes,  her  name  is  Callie  —  oh,  Calthea,  I  believe, 
is  n't  it,  Jane  ?  Quite  a  quaint  old  name  —  um - —  um  ! 
Family  name?  —  yes.  You  do  not  know  yet  how 
lucky  you  are  !  She  is  a  beautiful  girl,  but — er  — 
a  little  unsophisticated.  Her  first  ball!  — think  of 
that !  You  must  be  lovely  to  her,  Peter,  and  put  her 
on  to  things,  you  know." 

"  You  are  awfully  good  to  give  me  the  chance, 
and  you  are  to  understand  that  my  '  loveliness '  to 
her  will  be  limited  only  by  what  I  think  she  will 
stand  for,  coming  from  —  er —  the  West." 

"  Here  !  "  broke  in  Graeham  menacingly  ;  and 
Clark  amended,  with  a  smile,  — 

"The  Middle  West.  But  about  putting  her  on. 
My  dear  lady,  suppose  you  put  me  on  !  I  'm  awfully 
unsophisticated,  myself.  Is  Miss  Larkin's  lack  of 
sophistication,  for  instance,  a  matter  of  degree  or  the 
simon-pure  article  ?  It 's  just  as  well  to  know,  you 
know,  in  case  "  — 

"Tut,  tut!"  smiled  Mrs.  Carlysle  reprovingly. 
"  Is  this  the  way  you  appreciate  my  confidence  in 
you  ?  It  is  the  real  thing,  I  assure  you. 

"  '  Oh,  milk  and  water ;  oh,  mirth  and  innocence  !  ' ' 

"  Better  not  put  anything  on  futures,  Clark,"  ad 
monished  Graeham,  with  a  sage  shake  of  the  head. 

-+  197  -H- 


THE    WORLD'S    WARRANT 

"  Be  sure  of  the  quality  of  the  milk  and  water  before 
you  plunge." 

"  What,  have  you  seen  her  ?  " 

"  Sure.    She  's  a  corker." 

"  Do  you  remember  Rose-Red-and-Snow-White  in 
the  fairy  book,  Mr.  Clark  ?  "  inquired  Jane,  by  way 
of  supplementing  Graeham's  terse  description. 

"  Young  ladies  with  four  hyphens  in  their  names 
are  a  cut  above  me,"  Clark  deprecated ;  "  but  —  I 
say,  Mrs.  Carlysle,  is  there  anything  here  to  —  ah, 
to  drink,  you  know  ?  My  nerves  are  not  what  they 
once  were,  and  really  I  'm  very  much  agitated  by  all 
this." 

"Pinaud's  double  extract  of  White  Carnation  ?" 

"  Thanks,  no ;  I  never  take  anything  stronger 
than  "  -  the  words  died  on  his  lips,  exhaled  slowly 
in  a  gasp  of  surprise. 

Carlysle  was  advancing  through  the  long  suite  of 
rooms,  with  a  woman  on  his  arm  whose  slender  shape 
shrunk  shyly  against  him,  as  though  she  sought  to 
conceal  herself  from  the  eyes  turned  upon  her.  No 
one  noticed  Clark's  unfinished  sentence ;  an  odd 
tension  had  fallen  upon  the  little  group,  a  tension 
that  suggested  in  some  inexplicable  way  a  personal 
interest,  keen  and  suppressed,  by  each  spectator  in 
the  scene  that  went  forward,  as  though  upon  the 
stage  where  each  actor  waited  in  silence  for  his  cue. 

Carlysle  reached  his  wife's  side,  and  resigned  his 
charge  to  her  with  graceful  ceremony.  Callie  stood 
-+  198  +- 


SO    DIFFERENT   WITH    MEN 

erect,  with  head  well  up  upon  her  long  straight  throat, 
and  her  eyes,  under  the  heavy  shadow  of  their  lashes, 
immovably  upon  Clark's  face,  in  a  gaze  too  serene  for 
defiance  yet  full  of  a  hard  challenge.  She  returned 
the  greetings  of  the  other  two  with  a  quiet  word, 
and  dropped  easily  into  an  attitude  of  repose  at  Mrs. 
Carlysle's  side.  Mrs.  Carlysle  presented  Clark  in  a 
couple  of  words,  and  the  two  saluted  each  other,  still 
with  the  odd  air  of  listening  for  the  prompter's  voice 
in  the  wings.  The  girl  was  no  whit  behind  the  man 
in  graceful  ease ;  if  anything,  Clark  was  the  more 
shaken  of  the  two.  A  slight  flush  had  replaced  his 
momentary  pallor  and  an  imperceptible  smile  curled 
the  corners  of  Callie's  mouth,  as  they  gazed  steadily 
at  each  other. 

"  Mrs.  Carlysle  has  been  awfully  good  to  me,  Miss 
Larkin,"  said  Clark,  crossing  the  space  to  her  side. 
"  She  has  put  your  happiness  for  the  evening  into 
my  hands.  May  I  assume  my  guardianship  at  once  ?  " 
He  offered  his  arm  as  he  spoke,  and  Gallic  laid  her 
hand  within  it,  with  the  same  upward  lift  of  her 
lashes  that  she  had  practiced  on  her  friend  in  the 
mirror  an  hour  before. 

"  I  ought  to  be  willin'  to  trust  you,  ought  n't  I  ?  " 
she  murmured,  so  low  that  only  he  caught  it,  if  in 
deed  he  did. 

"  If  you  only  knew  how  happy  you  make  me ! " 
he  replied  mechanically,  too  absorbed  by  the  situa 
tion  to  know  what  he  said  or  what  she  had  said 

-h    199    H- 


THE    WORLD'S    WARRANT 

to  him,  engrossed  by  the  thought  of  getting  her 
from  under  the  eyes  of  the  group  within  the  room. 
With  a  last  murmured  word  of  farewell  or  promise 
to  meet  them  later,  he  drew  her  with  him  to  the  cor 
ridor  beyond. 

Graeham  broke  the  tension  with  a  quick  laugh  as 
they  disappeared. 

"  I  think  she  went  Clark  one  better,  eh,  Carlysle?  " 

"  They  have  met  before,"  said  Miss  Caruth  mus 
ingly  ;  "  I  wonder  where  ?  " 

"  How  well  Peter  did  his  part !  "  sighed  Mrs.  Car 
lysle.  "  He  is  so  satisfactory  !  " 

"  How  well  she  did  hers ! "  corrected  Carlysle,  with 
a  light  of  genuine  admiration  in  his  eyes.  "  If  there 
is  one  thing  '  in  man  or  woman,  dear  my  lord/  that 
I  do  revere,  it  is  grit ! " 

Clark  and  his  companion  meanwhile  walked  the 
full  length  of  the  corridor  in  silence :  Clark,  conscious 
of  the  eyes  that  followed  the  beautiful  woman  on 
his  arm,  was  voiceless  in  the  effort  he  made  to  control 
the  tumult  that  shook  his  nerves ;  and  she,  too,  was 
silent,  although,  as  Clark  became  aware  in  a  sub-con 
scious  way,  she  did  not  share  his  emotion.  Her  long, 
elastic  step  fell  evenly  with  his  own,  and  the  hand 
upon  his  arm  was  light  and  steady.  Clark  strained 
it  to  his  heart  as  he  bent  over  her. 

"  Blossom,  Blossom  !  "  he  whispered  unsteadily. 
"  At  last !  At  last !  "  The  girl  turned  her  face  to  him 
with  slow,  elaborate  grace,  letting  her  eyes  just  skim 
^  200  H- 


his  face  with  a  slight,  gracious  smile,  —  the  smile 
of  a  woman  Avho  ignores  a  boldness,  preferring  to 
construe  it  a  blunder.  Then  - 

"  My  name  's  Miss  Larkin,"  she  murmured  suavely. 
"  Maybe  you  did  n't  hear  what  Mrs.  Carlysle  said." 
Then  before  Clark  could  catch  his  breath  she  went 
on  in  Jane's  best  manner,  perfectly  rendered  :  "  This 
promises  to  be  quite  a  brilliant  affair,  does  it 
not?" 

"  Quite,"  dropped  mechanically  from  Clark's  lips. 
As  he  looked  down  upon  her,  walking  calmly  at  his 
side,  her  cheek  turned  from  him  in  an  attitude  of 
graceful  ease,  profound  amazement  succeeded  by 
amusement,  that  was  not  unmixed  with  chagrin,  sped 
across  Clark's  deeper  mood,  like  rack  across  a  storm 
cloud.  His  eyes  continued  to  rest  upon  her  averted 
face,  greedily  reclaiming  each  unforgotten  charm. 
The  tender  outline  of  her  throat  that  had  fitted 
the  curve  of  his  palm ;  the  curl  of  her  self-willed 
mouth;  the  arch  upward  tilt  of  her  nose, —  all,  all 
were  the  same.  His  eyes  softened  with  a  smile, 
as  they  rested  upon  the  dusky  hair  curled  low 
upon  her  brow  and  throat.  He  remembered  well 
hoAv  she  had  hated  her  beautiful  red  hair,  and  how 
often  she  had  entreated  him  to  let  the  color  be 
changed. 

Just  before  they  reached  the  stairs  they  passed 
the  curtained  doorway  of  a  deserted  reception  room, 
and  Clark  turned  toward  it.  His  companion  met  his 
-+  201  -f- 


THE    WORLD'S    WARRANT 

glance  of  passionate  entreaty  with  raised  brows  of 
perfectly  controlled  and  courteous  inquiry,  which 
Clark  in  his  turn  endeavored  to  beat  down  by  a 
remonstrant  frown. 

"  We  can't  talk  down  there,  among  all  those 
people !  "  he  urged  with  tender  roughness.  "  Come, 
darling." 

The  girl's  smile  was  as  graciously  unattached  as 
before,  as  she  drawled  sweetly  :  "  Aw,  yes  we  ken  ! 
Lessen,"  —  archly,  —  "  lessen  you  air  goin'  to  tell 
me  er  secret;  'n'  you'd  better  not,  fur"  —  here 
she  suddenly  made  a  transition  to  Jane's  manner, 
that  would  have  amused  Clark  hugely  at  any  other 
time  —  "I  could  n't  keep  a  secret  to  save  my  life, 
really ! " 

"You  foolish  child,"  said  he  gravely,  after  an  in 
stant  of  hard  scrutiny ;  "  do  you  suppose  I  will  be 
put  off  with  mummery  of  this  sort  ?  lola  !  " 

She  drew  her  hand  coldly  from  his  arm,  and 
glanced  him  over  with  conscious  dignity. 

"I  see  Mrs.  Carlysle  just  below  us  there;  I  will 
join  her,"  and  she  sped  lightly  down  the  stairs,  leav 
ing  Clark  to  join  her  if  he  would  upon  the  landing, 
exasperated  and  a  trifle  out  of  breath  as  he  drew  her 
hand  into  his  arm  again. 

"  We  '11  have  it  out  before  the  evening  is  over," 
he  said  quietly.  "  You  belong  to  me  —  for  the 
evening,"  he  ended,  with  a  shadow  of  his  old  caress 
ing  masterfulness  as  he  looked  down  into  her  eyes, 
-+  202  -i- 


SO    DIFFERENT   WIT II  MEN 

that  beat  down  his  own  with  a  cool  consciousness  of 
power  that  startled  him. 

"  I  wonder,"  she  observed  calmly,  as  they  walked 
through  the  anteroom  leading  to  the  ballroom,  —  "I 
wonder  what  right  you  have  to  speak  to  me  in  this 
way?" 

"  Right ! "  he  echoed  hoarsely,  letting  go  his  hold 
upon  himself  for  a  second.  Suddenly  he  laughed, 
an  easy  laugh  of  ownership,  —  caressing,  tolerant. 
"  The  gods  themselves  cannot  take  back  their  gifts, 
Blossom,  and  no  more  can  a  woman !  .  .  .  This  is 
a  magnificent  floor  !  May  I  have  the  pleasure  ?  Have 
you  forgotten  how  to  waltz?"  he  asked,  as  she  stood 
a  moment  in  silent  struggle.  "  Ah,  I  see  you  have 
not !  I  taught  you  well,  did  I  not  ?  ...  Right  ?  " 
he  went  on  after  a  space,  gravely,  yet  with  the  note 
that  comes  to  the  voice  in  speaking  to  a  child. 
"  Right,  you  say  ?  I  have  the  same  right  I  ever  had, 
-  the  right  you  gave  me,  lola  !  And  —  and  " —  he 
hesitated,  "  the  other." 

"  What  other  ?  "  she  asked  coldly,  though  he  felt 
the  start  that  ran  through  her  as  he  answered,  simply, 

"The  child." 

The  ball  was  at  its  height  when  Carlysle  came  to 
anchor  at  his  wife's  side,  with  a  smile  of  triumph. 

"  Our  little  guest  from  '  She-car-go  '  is  having  the 
time  of  her  life.  The  men  are  mad  about  her,  eh  ?  " 

"The  men  !"  said  she,  in  a  tone  of  reserved  nega- 
-*-  203  H- 


THE    WORLD'S    WARRANT 

tion,  as  she  drew  Carlysle  to  a  position  that  com 
manded  the  whole  ballroom.  Within,  the  long  lines 
of  the  cotillion  were  weaving  in  spirals,  melting,  form 
ing,  dissolving,  and  reforming  into  undulating  lines, 
joined  by  a  rainbow  arch  of  gauze;  the  delicately 
tinted  dresses  of  the  women  giving  to  the  whole 
the  aspect  of  a  garden  border,  with  tulips  gayly 
a-blow. 

"  Peter  has  been  perfectly  lovely  to  her ;  he  has 
scarcely  left  her  side  all  the  evening,  and  it  takes 
courage  to  face  that." 

She  indicated  by  a  play  of  feature  Callie's  figure, 
italicized  by  the  brilliant  rose-colored  gown,  and  by 
a  very  perceptible  space  left  upon  each  side  of  her 
by  the  women  who  stood  next  her  in  the  line.  The 
girl's  head  was  still  held  high,  and  her  eyes,  be 
neath  their  drooping  lashes,  did  not  waver  from 
Clark's  face  as  with  a  low  word,  a  smile,  a  glance, 
he  guided  her  among  the  unfamiliar  figures  of  the 
dance.  Carlysle' s  laugh  had  a  note  of  pity  as  he 
watched  the  cruel  little  comedy,  that  had  its  tragic 
underlining. 

"  I  always  thought  Peter  had  a  sort  of  grit,  but  I 
never  suspected  him  of  that  sort  of  courage.  He  's 
in  the  deuce  of  a  funk  too,"  he  added,  watching  Clark 
keenly.  Clark's  face  was  set  in  his  society  expression 
of  detached  nonchalance,  that  in  women's  eyes  added 
piquancy  to  his  delicate  and  unfailing  attention  to 
a  woman's  slightest  want :  the  combination  had  won 
•H-  204  +- 


SO    DIFFERENT   WITH    MEN 

for  him  the  verdict  among  the  women  he  knew  of 
being  the  possessor  of  "a  perfectly  lovely  man 
ner  ; "  but  something  in  the  clinch  of  his  jaw,  that 
squared  his  chin  and  straightened  his  lip,  betrayed 
to  the  watchers  without  his  consciousness  of  the 
little  play  that  went  on  about  him,  —  of  skirts 
swirled  deftly  aside  to  avoid  contact  with  the  rose- 
colored  gauze,  of  cheeks  turned  and  glances  that 
passed  her  blankly,  —  hands  extended  unavoidably 
in  the  convolution  of  the  dance,  but  timed  exactly 
to  miss  Callie's  own. 

"  She  's  a  beauty,  'for  a'  that  an'  a'  that'  !  "  ob 
served  Carlysle,  with  a  faintly  vindictive  complai 
sance,  that  drew  a  smile  from  his  wife  as  she  gave  a 
shrug  of  disgusted  acquiescence. 

"  Of  course,  that  is  it.  If  it  were  not  for  her 
-her"- 

"  Seductiveness,"  supplied  Carlysle,  with  the  air  of 
having  said  all  there  was  to  say  in  a  word. 

"  Yes  !  No  woman  on  earth  could  be  expected  to 
stand  Callie's  glance,  and  that  smile!"  Mrs.  Carlysle 
shivered  daintily. 

"  Do  be  fair,  Kate !  The  girl  can't  help  her  type, 
you  know.  That 's  nothing  but  atavism  ;  under  that 
ancestral  glaze  of  hers  she  's  a  perfectly  common 
place  little  earthenware  pippin.  What  offends  you 
is  merely  a  sort  of  natural  fascination,  like  the  play 
of  color  in  certain  birds  and  fishes." 

"  We  have  rather  passed  the  '  play  of  color '  stage, 
-*-  205  -i— 


THE    WORLD'S    WARRANT 

Jim.  And  no  nice  woman  would  put  up  with  natural 
fascination  in  another  Avoman  for  a  moment,  as  you 
perfectly  know." 

"I  suppose  you  know  who  she  is,  Kate?  "  said  he 
quietly,  after  a  moment  of  silence.  Mrs.  Carlysle 
whirled  swiftly  upon  him. 

"lola  Jourdan  !  "  -  tensely;  — "  I  have  felt  it  for 
days  !  "  Her  eyes  passed  on,  and  rested  reflectively 
upon  Clark's  face.  "  Can  it  be  possible  that  he 
knows  ?  " 

"  Clark  ?  Oh,  yes  ;  he  knows  —  now.  Peter  met 
her  here  two  years  ago,  when  he  was  working  the 
old  Chinquepin  deal  with  her  father.  He  stopped  a 
month  in  the  country,  near  her  father's  plantation." 
Carlysle  spoke  without  special  significance,  but  his 
wife's  hand  closed  with  instant  comprehension  upon 
his  arm,  in  a  nervous  grasp  of  sympathy. 

"  Oh,  Jim,  my  poor  boy,  are  you  to  lose  Chinque 
pin  at  last?  After  all  you  have  done  ?  " 

"  Never  mind,"  he  said  cheerfully,  after  an  instant 
of  silent  sympathy  with  her  trouble  ;  "  don't  worry, 
Kate ;  who  knows  but  it  may  work  out  right  in  the 
end?" 

"  How  can  he  marry  her  as  things  are  ?  " 

"  I  wish  to  God  I  knew  ! "  said  Carlysle,  with  his 
eyes  narrowed  in  thought.  "  It  is  a  terrific  situation 
for  Clark  —  Peter,  of  all  men !  Graeham,  now  - 
Graeham  has  the  tough  fibre  of  manliness  in  him,  that 
would  face  the  world  down  and  force  its  respect ;  but 
-H  206  H- 


SO    DIFFERENT   WITH    MEN 

Peter  would  go  to  pieces  under  it.  That  infernal 
will  of  old  Jourdan's  has  blazoned  the  thing  from 
one  end  of  the  country  to  the  other,  and  it  would 
simply  mean  to  walk  into  the  blaze  of  the  footlights 
and  announce  himself  a  monumental  cad  ;  and  when 
a  man  happens  not  to  be  a  cad,  as  Peter  is  not ! 
'  Oufjlit  to  pay '  ?  I  wish  to  heavens  there  was  a 
chance  of  his  escaping  payment  —  in  this  particular 
coin,  at  least !  That  idea,  Kate,  that  in  a  case  like  this 
the  woman  is  the  only  one  who  pays,  is  the  deadest 
fallacy  of  an  enlightened  age  —  threadbare,  rotten  ! 
When  you  hit  the  level  of  the  fundamentals,  that 
thing  ceases  to  be  a  question  for  society  ;  at  that  level 
we  are  human  beings  merely,  and  we  settle  upon  the 
basis  that  no  human  being  escapes  the  consequences  of 
his  own  acts.  This  has  nothing  to  do  with  morality, 
as  you  see  morality  ;  this  is  the  thing  men  call  honor, 
and  it  keeps  society's  head  to  the  wind  !  It 's  a  stan 
dard  set  for  men,  by  men  who  know  themselves  and 
each  other  and  women  ;  and  men  settle  it  in  their 
own  way,  with  the  man  who  dares  ignore  it.  What 
it  foots  up  to  in  this  case  is  that  Clark  will  brand 
himself  a  puppy  if,  having  refused  to  right  this 
girl,  he  now  marries  her  under  the  terms  of  her  fa 
ther's  will,  and  takes  the  money  old  Jourdan  offered 
him  as  a  bribe." 

"Who  knows  that  he  refused  ?  " 

"  The  presumption  is  that  he    did ;  he  did   not 
marry  her." 

-+  207  ^ 


THE    WORLD'S    WARRANT 

"  But  she  —  Callie  may  not  be  willing  ?  " 

"  Women  have  no  choice  in  a  thing  like  this  ; 
they  must  ( get  the  world's  warrant '  or  go  under." 

"  No  choice,  indeed  !  Have  you  seen  James  Good- 
loe's  letter,  that  came  to-night?  How  on  earth,  Jim, 
is  this  thing  to  end?" 

Carlysle  flung  responsibility  from  him,  with  a  shrug 
of  his  graceful  inconsequent  shoulders.  His  wife 
went  on  :  — 

"  He  is  going  abroad  on  business,  and  wants  to 
take  her  with  him.  He  wants  her  to  meet  him  in 
New  York  in  two  weeks,  and  marry  him  before  they 
sail." 

"The  deuce  he  does!  has  Callie  seen  the  letter?" 
quickly. 

"  Yes,  naturally.  She  was  delighted ;  agreed  to 
go  at  once." 

"  Agreed !  " 

Carlysle  stood  in  thought,  with  his  eyes  upon  the 
brilliant  scene  within,  where  the  lines  were  forming 
for  the  last  time.  A  long-drawn  golden  note  from 
the  orchestra,  and  the  garden  borders  seemed  flat- 

7  O 

tened  by  a  passing  breeze ;  broke,  scattered,  and 
resolved  themselves  into  a  great  wheel  of  promenad- 
ers,  gayly  chattering.  Callie  with  Clark  passed  the 
open  doorway,  where  Mrs.  Carlysle  stood.  His  head 
was  bent  low  over  her ;  he  seemed  to  plead  with  her. 
She  nodded  carelessly,  with  eyes  that  glanced  away 
from  him,  and  the  two  passed  out  of  sight. 
-H-  208  +- 


SO    DIFFERENT   WITH    MEN 

"  Clark  is  what  women  call  '  a  fetching  fellow/ 
isn't  he,  Kate?" 

"  Peter  has  a  most  ex-qui-site  manner,"  said  Mrs. 
Caiiysle  judicially;  "but  I  '11  leave  you  to  say  how 
far  manner  counts,  when  it  comes  to  what  you  call 
'  the  fundamentals.' ' 

In  the  meantime,  in  a  glazed  balcony,  separated 
from  the  ballroom  by  a  screen  of  palms  that  con 
verted  it  into  a  tiny  jungle,  lit  dimly  by  the  winter 
moon  low  in  the  sky  without,  Clark  and  the  girl 
were  facing  those  same  "  fundamentals." 

Clark  stared  at  the  bar  of  moonlight  upon  the 
tiles  at  his  feet  with  moody  eyes ;  the  girl  leaned 
easily  back  in  the  corner  of  the  low  seat  they  shared. 
They  were  silent ;  but  the  silence  quivered,  strained 
across  the  raw  edge  of  feeling. 

"  I  know,"  resumed  Clark,  with  his  voice  full  of 
rough,  unused  notes,  —  "  Great  God,  I  've  had  cause 
enough  to  know  !  —  that  it  is  worse  than  madness  to 
reason  with  you." 

"  Yes,  I  hate  it,"  said  she  calmly ;  "  let 's  talk 
erbout  th'  party." 

"  But  it  is  worse  even  than  madness,  to  let  you 
wreck  your  life  and  mine  by  this  piece  of  folly.  Our 
relation  to  each  other  concerns  no  one  on  earth  but 
our  two  selves  and  the  executor  of  your  father's  will ; 
and  Mr.  Cartright  is  your  uncle,  —  he  will  be  as  anx 
ious  as  I  to  keep  this  quiet.  Not  three  people  in  the 

-H-  209  -•- 


THE    WORLD'S    WARRANT 

world  need  know  that  we  have  been  married  pri 
vately.  We  would  be  together  just  as  we  used  to 
be ;  think  of  that,  lola !  Together  again,  and  free 
to  live  our  lives  as  we  please.  With  this  money 
for  the  falls,  we  could  live  in  the  East  somewhere ; 
and  who  would  ever  know  what  your  past  had 
been?" 

lola  laughed  a  low,  stinging  laugh,  that  flushed 
Clark's  forehead  with  a  sudden  heat. 

"My  past!"  she  echoed.  "You  air  awful  good 
to  overlook  my  past !  "  Her  bosom  was  rising  and 
falling  in  quick  pants,  torn  by  the  same  unendurable 
shame  that  had  maddened  her  at  Graeham's  words : 
a  raging  sense  of  injustice,  somewhere,  flung  her 
in  fierce  revolt  against  her  own  nature  that  had 
betrayed  her ;  and  in  that  one  scathing  instant  of 
self-knowledge  and  self -scorn,  that  implacable  "  unto 
the  third  and  fourth  generation  "  fulfilled  itself, 
and  in  heredity's  grip  Marthy  McGuion's  daughter 
rehearsed,  concentrated  into  one  moment  of  agony, 
her  mother's  shame  that  had  rankled  for  forty 
years.  "  He  called  me  er  red  rose,"  she  said,  hur 
rying  her  words  with  gasps  of  mocking  laughter 
between  ;  "  but  even  he,  did  n't  'low  I  could  be 
bought." 

"  <  Bought '  ?  "  echoed  Clark  coldly.  "You  would 
be  my  wife." 

"  But  er  bought  wife  !    Bought  with  th'  name  of 
wife,  the  same  as  I  'd  buy  you  with  Chinquepin  ! " 
-+  210  -H- 


SO    DIFFERENT   WITH    MEN 

Clark  made  a  gesture  of  restrained  anger.  "  You 
do  not  understand,  lola.  You  never  could  under 
stand  that  a  man  has  a  duty  to  the  world,  to  him 
self  as  part  of  the  world.  We  could  have  been  happy 
in  the  old  days  in  the  old  way,  if  you  'd  only  have 
been  reasonable."  He  dropped  upon  his  knee  at  her 
side,  and  tried  to  draw  her  to  him  in  his  old-time 
caressing  way.  "  Come  back  to  me,  Blossom,  and 
have  done  with  all  this  talk  about  the  '  past,'  like  a 
little  tragedy  queen  !  You  have  n't  changed  an  atom, 
take  my  word  for  it ;  you  are  the  same  adorable,  ex 
asperating,  natural  creature  that  loved  me  because 
she  could  n't  help  it,  being  made  for  loving  !  Come  ; 
we  '11  bring  the  old  days  back,  and  we  '11  have  the 
little  chap  with  us  if  you  say  so.  What  difference 
does  a  scrap  of  printed  paper  or  a  dozen  careless 
words  from  a  minister  make  to  us  now,  —  except 
to  secure  the  property  to  you  and  to  the  boy  ?  Say 
you  will,  dear !  Let  me  arrange  with  Mr.  Cart- 
right." 

But  she  thrust  him  from  her  and  faced  him 
steadily,  as  unlike  the  palpitating  creature  that  he 
had  known,  as  her  gaze  that  studied  him  coldly 
told  him  that  he  was  unlike  the  lover  of  those 
days. 

"You  used  to  tell  me  —  do  you  remember?  —  over 

V  over,  that  I  did  n't  understand.    I  did  n't  then ; 

but  Peter,  I  do   now.    Maybe  it  is  n't  the  bit  uv 

writin'  or  th'  preacher's  word  that  makes  th'  differ- 

-+  211  H- 


ence  ;  but  it's  —  it 's  something  inside  uv  me,  that 
tells  me  it  is  not  right  to  go  back  to  you,  no  matter 
how,  with  th'  bit  uv  writin'  or  without  it,  as  you 
say.  That  girl  that  lived  with  you,"  she  went  on 
slowly,  as  though  the  thought  were  beating  itself 
out  in  her  brain  stroke  by  stroke,  "has  grown  up 
into  me,  like  my  little-girl  self  with  a  doll  grew  up 
into  her.  She  did  not  know  all  that  she  wanted,  and 
she  took  what  she  could  get,  like  any  child  ;  but  / 
know  what  I  want  now  ;  I  want  to  be  er  star  like  — 
like  her." 

Peter  Clark  was  an  ordinary  young  fellow,  with  a 
rather  cheap  earthenware  soul;  but  even  cheap  earth 
enware  needs  to  be  filled,  having  been  moulded  in  the 
shape  to  receive  and  hold  and  give,  —  and  having 
been  filled  ever  so  shallowly  once,  aches  emptily  when 
dispossessed;  and  as  he  met  the  girl's  face  intent 
upon  the  thought  constraining  her,  the  realization  was 
driven  home  to  him,  like  a  dull  nail  into  his  brain, 
that  he  had  lost  her,  —  and  with  her  the  hopes  and 
ambitions,  paltry  enough  no  doubt,  yet  making  the 
sum  of  life  to  him.  He  had  loved  lola  Jourdan 
cleanly  and  honestly,  and  had  been  truer  to  his 
illicit  union  with  her  than  many  men  are  to  their 
marriage  vows  ;  he  loved  her  now  ;  he  had  given  her 
in  those  days  all  that  was  in  him  to  give  ;  but  cour 
age,  the  sort  of  courage  that  it  took  to  face  the 
frown  of  his  plaster  gods  and  their  tinny  thunders, 
was  not  in  him.  But  the  same  God  that  made  the 
-i-  212  -^ 


SO    DIFFERENT   WITH    MEN 

soul  of  the  coward  made  compromise,  and  Clark 
turned  to  it  gratefully.  Hoodwink  his  gods,  since  he 
dared  not  defy  them ! 

"  Do  you  fully  understand  that  you  must  give  up 
this  money  forever,  unless  you  comply  with  the  terms 
of  your  father's  will  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  And  what  then,  Tola  ?  What  future  for  you  and 
for  the  child  ?  I  find  you  here,  in  this  preposterous 
masquerade,  the  guest  of  the  Carlysles ;  but  for  how 
long?" 

He  turned  away  restlessly,  measuring  the  little 
space  with  a  stride,  and  back.  "  I  know  you  too  well," 
he  said,  looking  keenly  down  on  her,  "  to  dream 
that  you  will  be  frank  with  me ;  but  no  woman,  not 
even  you,  would  be  so  mad  —  Is  there  another 
man  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  she  breathed. 

"  You  love  him  enough  to  sacrifice  your  fortune 
for  his  sake  ?  " 

"  A  thousand  times  over  for  one  hour  as  his 
wife  !  " 

"  Does  he  know  ?  "   asked  Clark  hoarsely. 

"Know?  What?" 

"  Of  the  sacrifice  you  are  making,  for  one  thing, 
and  why  you  make  it." 

"  Sacrifice,  pooh  !  'F  I  had  th'  whole  round  world 
in  this  hand  and  heaven  in  this," —  she  held  out  her 
lovely  arms  to  him  with  outstretched  hands,  in  an 
-t-  213  *- 


THE    WORLD'S    WARRANT 

unconsciously  dramatic  gesture,  —  "  I  'd  give  them 
a  million  times  over  fur  —  fur  him." 

"But  you  have  not  told  him,"  said  Clark  cruelly; 
"  and  when  you  do  "  —  He  paused,  his  own  jeal 
ous  misery  silenced  by  the  agony  that  looked  at 
him  from  her  eyes.  He  bent  over  her  in  quick  re 
pentance.  "  My  poor  girl,  you  were  afraid  to  tell 
him  ?  Would  the  brute  dare  to  think  —  would 
any  man  living  dare  to  think  an  evil  thought  of 
you  !  Was  that  what  you  meant  about  '  stars'  and 
<  roses  '  ?  " 

She  thrust  him  off,  turned  from  him  with  hidden 
face;  and  Clark  stood  staring  out  at  the  lank,  gray 
fields,  crossed  by  stalking  shadows  from  the  sinking 
moon. 

"  lola,  give  me  a  chance  to  right  the  wrong  I  did 
you,  dear,  in  the  only  way  I  can  !  If  I  could  I  would 
undo  the  past,  make  it  possible  —  But  no  ;  why  do 
I  lie  ?  I  would  not !  I  know  how  it  will  be  with  you. 
Destiny  has  always  constrained  you,  like  a  curse  ! 
You  will  tell  this  man,  and  when  you  do  he  will 
have  no  more  of  you ;  then  you  must  come  back  to 
me,  and  why  not  now  ?  " 

lola  shivered,  and  shrunk  from  his  tone  as  though 
he  had  laid  his  eager,  importunate  hands  upon  her; 
but  she  made  no  other  answer. 

"You  will  not?" 

"  Never !  " 

"  I  love  you,  I  tell  you !  " 

-H  214  ••- 


SO    DIFFERENT   WITH    MEN 

"You  love  Chinquepin,"  she  answered,  with  a  smile 
too  weary  to  be  bitter,  and  too  transient  to  display 
the  tinge  of  pique  he  listened  eagerly  for. 

"  I  '11  prove  it,  lola  !  Let  the  cursed  water  go  ! 
Come  back  to  me  in  the  old  way  ! " 

She  walked  past  him  without  reply,  and  he  fol 
lowed  her,  in  silence,  to  the  room  beyond. 


THE   WORLD'S   WARRANT 


CHAPTER   XII 

"  Look  to  the  soul  — 
Pity  it,  stoop  to  it  before  you  begin 
(The  true  man's  way)  on  justice" 

CARLYSLE  met  them  at  the  foot  of  the  great  stair 
way,  and  took  firm  possession  of  his  guest. 

"  No  bloated  monopolists  about  here,  Peter,"  he 
said  lightly,  but  with  a  keen  glance  at  the  young 
man's  face;  "I  like  to  waltz  with  the  belle  of  the 
evening  myself,  occasionally.  Mrs.  Carlysle  has  just 
gone  up,"  he  went  on,  addressing  lola,  "and  in 
stalled  me  as  chaperone.  Shall  I  take  you  up  to  her? 
Or  will  you  give  me  a  turn,  to  remember  the  evening 
by?  Or  let  me  get  you  something?  Not  an  ice? 
—  a  glass  of  wine  ?  " 

"  Thank  you,  no,"  she  returned  wearily  and  a 
little  flatly ;  and  after  a  pair  of  words  of  coldest  for 
mality  had  passed  between  her  and  Clark,  she  turned 
with  Carlysle  toward  the  stairs. 

"  You  're  sure  you  won't  think  better  of  the  glass 
of  wine?  Your  triumph  has  be.en  a  bit  too  much 
for  you,  eh  ?  " 

He  flushed  a  little  under  the  sidelong,  mocking 
glance  she  turned  upon  him. 

"  You  need  n't  do  any  more  play-actin',  Mr.  Car- 
-+  216  +- 


LOOK  TO    THE    SOUL 

lysle  !  I  have  never  tasted  a  drop  of  wine  in  my  life, 
nor  worn  a  decent  dress,  nor  walked  with  a  gentle 
man  as  I  am  walking  with  you,  and  you  know  it  per 
fectly." 

"  Except  what  my  eyes  tell  me  of  your  beauty  and 
grace,  child,"  hesitated  Carlysle,  "I  know  so  little 
of  you.  But  I  wish  very  much  that  it  were  more  — 
that  I  was  better  able  to  help  you,  advise  you ;  for 
something  tells  me  that  you  need  it  sorely." 

He  laid  his  hand  upon  an  open  door  that  they 
were  passing  at  the  moment. 

"Will  you  not  come  in, —  it  is  not  late,  and  my 
study  is  just  here?  I  wish  to  talk  over  Goodloe's 
letter  with  you ;  and  I  think  you  have  something  to 
tell  me,  have  you  not?"  —  he  paused  on  the  last  word 
and  stood  looking  keenly  down  into  her  face  — 
"Tola?"  he  added  deliberately. 

He  felt  the  start  that  ran  through  her,  and  his 
admiration  rose  as  he  perceived  that  she  would  not 
waste  herself  in  useless  artifice.  In  the  veins  that  fed 
her  delicate  flesh  ran  a  tiny  runlet  from  the  great 
stream  of  stubborn  courage,  that  for  four  years, 
against  overwhelming  odds,  amazed  the  world;  and 
it  steadied  her  now,  and  stiffened  her  to  meet  the 
ordeal  before  her.  She  was  a  shade  paler  than 
before,  but  her  liquid  drawl  was  perfectly  steady,  as 
she  replied,  — 

"  You  know  already  all  I  have  to  tell." 

It  took  Carlysle  a  moment  to  raise  the  light  upon 
-»•  217  +- 


THE    WORLD'S    WARRANT 

his  desk  and  find  her  a  chair;  he  began  to  speak  in 
a  slightly  peremptory  tone,  while  still  busied  with 
the  light. 

"  You  told  me  when  I  first  met  you  here,  at  my 
office,  that  you  were  from  Chicago.  That  is  not  true, 
is  it?" 

"  It  was  partly  true,"  she  said  carelessly. 

"  Were  you  not  born  and  raised  on  your  father's 
plantation  in  Pike  County,  down  the  river  here?" 

She  had  been  leaning  back  in  her  chair,  with  her 
eyes  upon  one  slippered  foot  protruding  from  her 
flounces,  and  she  did  not  rouse  herself  to  answer  ex 
cept  to  lift  her  lovely  impenetrable  eyes  to  his. 

"  You  told  me  when  I  first  met  you,"  she  began, 
unconsciously  using  Carlysle's  own  phrase,  "that  you 
would  n't  never  ax  me  no  questions.  'N'  when  er 
gentleman  gives  er  lady  his  honor-word,  he  is  bound 
to  keep  it." 

"  It  was  an  implied  promise,  certainly.  But,  if  you 
remember,  I  added  that  my  only  concern  with  you 
was  to  help  you,  and  that  is  still  true.  If,  to  help 
you  more  effectively,  I  should  be  forced  to  disregard 
one  part  of  my  promise  to  more  fully  keep  the  other, 
I  think  I  should  be  justified,  eh?" 

No  answer;  and  after  a  pause  Carlysle  went  on. 

"  We  '11  let  that  pass.    Your  father  has  left  you 
some  very  valuable  property,  lola,  under  certain  con 
ditions.    Shall  I  explain  it  to  you?   That  is  really 
what  I  wanted  to  speak  to  you  about." 
-+  218  4- 


LOOK    TO    THE    SOUL 

"I  know  erbout  Chinquepin  'n'  th'  other,"  she  said 
quietly. 

"  Is  it  possible  that  you  knew  already  ?  And  you 
gave  no  sign  —  made  no  move  to  claim  it?" 

"  I  shall  never  claim  it  that  way." 

"  Not  claim  it !  "  cried  Carlysle,  shaken  out  of  his 
composure  by  the  finality  of  her  tone.  "  Preposterous ! 
Why,  this  is  the  chance  of  your  life,  child.  You  are 
too  brave  to  let  it  slip  from  your  grasp.  With  this 
money  and  your  beauty  -  But  you  will  learn  rap 
idly  enough  what  the  world  has  for  a  woman  like 
you.  Let  me  give  you  your  first  lesson  to-night ;  and 
remember  what  I  say,  it  will  be  of  value  to  you.  The 
past  is  a  dead  thing,  Tola ;  dead  life  cells  that  we 
slough  off,  as  a  snake  does  his  outworn  skin,  that 
we  may  clothe  ourselves  anew  in  strength  and  beauty. 
In  a  measure  you  know  this,  —  for  you  have  proved 
it !  That  past  experience,  that  little  "  -  he  wavered 
kindly  —  "shadow  on  your  life,  will  pass  from  the 
minds  of  others ;  let  it  pass  from  your  own  as  well. 
Take  another  grip  on  life,  and  let  the  past  go 
hang !  Take  this  money  your  father  left  you,  and 
set  yourself  right  with  the  world,  as  he  intended." 

"'Set  m'self  right  with  th'  world,'"  she  echoed 
slowly;  "ever'body  keeps  on  saying  that  to  me.  Pa 
said  it  that  night  when  I  went  back;  'n'  he  said  it 
over  'n'  over ;  and  now  you !  What  does  it  mean, 
Mr.  Carlysle,  to  be  right  with  th'  world  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know  that  I  know,"  Carlysle  said  mus- 
-H  219  -K- 


THE    WORLD'S   WARRANT 

ingly;  "but  you  know  you  have  been  at  odds  with 
the  world,  and  what  put  you  there  ?  " 

The  half-dozen  people  Avho  constituted  the  girl's 
little  world  had,  with  the  exception  perhaps  of  Car 
lysle,  tacitly  accepted  her  at  her  own  valuation ;  never 
suspecting  that  the  callous  lightness  so  obstinately 
interposed  between  herself  and  the  world  might  be 
a  shield,  snatched  up  at  random  in  some  moment 
of  stress  and  clung  to  afterward,  behind  which  she 
cowered  bruised  and  shrinking  in  fierce  isolation  : 
but  the  revelation  that  shone  from  her  eyes,  black 
beneath  her  locked  brows,  and  spoke  in  her  trem 
bling  lips,  that  could  not  frame  the  words  that  strove 
for  utterance,  drove  home  to  Carlysle  a  stinging  sense 
of  his  injustice  to  her-  She  had  sprung  up  and  paced 
the  floor  with  her  long,  light  step,  that  had  the  free 
dom  of  the  country-bred  girl,  the  shiver  of  the  silk 
keeping  pace  with  her  as  she  walked ;  a  coil  of  her 
hair  had  slipped  down  and  lay  along  her  bosom,  and 
she  threaded  it  with  shaking  fingers  as  she  paused 
before  Carlysle. 

"  You  know  th'  plantation  folkses  erlong  th' 
ruver  here,  Mr.  Carlysle  ?  Well,  I  was  like  that ;  er 
little  cracker  in  blue-cotton  checks  'n'  brogan  shoes, 
'n'  what  did  I  know  erbout  being  right  with  th' 
world,  or  wrong  with  it?  He  was  all  th'  world  I  knew 
or  kered  erbout.  But  you  see,  lie  kered  erbout  his 
i  world,'  as  he  called  it,  more  'n  he  did  erbout  me, 
and  bime  by  he  let  me  find  it  out,  'n'  then  "  — 
-+  220  H- 


LOOK   TO    THE    SOUL 

"You  left  him?" 

"  Yes." 

"And  —  ?" 

"  You  know  th'  rest,"  she  said  wearily.  "  I  come 
back  home  to  pa,  'n'  he  told  me  to  set  myself  right 
with  th'  world  before  I  ever  come  nigh  to  him,  'n' 
I  did  n't  know  where  to  go ;  'n'  I  had  n't  any  more 
money  if  I  had  known ;  so  I  stopped  here,  'n'  you 
were  good  to  me  —  I  don't  know  why  ;  'n'  that 's 
all,"  she  ended,  "  except  Mr.  Goodloe." 

"  Goodloe ! "  cried  Carlysle,  with  a  start.  "  Do  you 
mean  that  man  in  Nevada?  He  will  not  hold  you 
to  that  insane  agreement,  in  the  face  of  this  other 
thing;  I  will  not  let  him.  That's  what  I  wanted  to 
talk  over  with  you.  We  '11  put  a  stop  to  that  at 
once." 

She  had  turned  a  proudly  questioning  glance 
upon  him,  in  silent  challenge  of  his  right  to  do  what 
he  had  said. 

"Think  what  this  means  to  you!"  Carlysle  an 
swered  the  quiet  resistance  of  her  glance,  too  much 
in  earnest  to  choose  his  words ;  "  fortune,  respecta 
bility,  your  child's  good  name." 

"Respectability?"  she  echoed,  not  so  much  in 
scorn  as  in  restless  questioning,  as  of  a  thing  brooded 
over  in  the  seclusion  of  her  own  mind  now  brought 
suddenly  into  the  light  of  another's  explanation;  "  'f 
it  was  not  right  to  stay  with  him  when  we  loved 
each  other,  —  thought  we  loved  each  other,  anyhow, 
-+  221  +- 


THE    WORLD'S   WARRANT 

—  is  it  right  to  go  back  to  him  when  we  no  longer 
love  each  other,  for  a  bit  uv  money  ?  " 

Carlysle  moved  restlessly.  "  You  do  not  consider 
the  moral  question  involved,"  he  said  hurriedly,  — 
"  your  duty  to  your  child,  —  to  society." 

"77  Duty  to  society?  What  has  society  done  for 
me?" 

"  —  Marriage,  I  mean  the  legal  tie,"  went  on 
Carlysle,  not  heeding  her  question,  "  is  right,  even 
under  those  circumstances,  because  it  is  order,  law  ! 
You  asked  what  it  meant  to  be  right  with  the  world? 
That  is  what  it  means,  —  to  get  in  line  with  the 
orderly  course  of  things;  to  get  one's  self  parallel 
with  the  great  silent  body  of  right;  and  legal  mar 
riage  is  a  part  of  that.  I  may  seem  inconsistent 
about  this  matter  with  Goodloe,  but  I  cannot  stand 
by  and  see  you  cut  your  throat  in  this  way.  I  blame 
myself  bitterly  enough  for  my  stupid  meddling  with 
your  affairs,  but  it  is  not  too  late.  A  tie  like  that 
between  you  and  this  man,"  he  went  on,  feeling 
his  way  as  a  surgeon  might  with  his  hand  along  a 
broken  limb,  dreading  the  pain  he  must  inflict,  "is 
not  easily  broken.  Forgive  him  for  the  child's  sake; 
obey  your  father's  command  from  his  grave,  for  it 
is  nothing  short  of  that!  Let  his  repentance — that 
is  what  he  intended  —  be  effective  in  righting  your 
life." 

"  I  did  n't  'low  it  was  easy  to  break,"  she  said 
slowly;  "but  when  they  air  broke,  they  stay  broke, 
•H.  222  *- 


LOOK    TO    THE    SOUL 

—  they  ain't  no  mendin'  them.    I  could  n't  go  back 
to  —  him.    Not  now,  knowing1  what  I  know." 

"  lola,  a  woman  would  look  as  you  look  and  act  as 
you  are  acting  if  there  was  another  man.  Is  there  ?  " 

An  indescribable  change  passed  over  her  face, 
deepening  it  to  tenderness  so  magically  that  Carlysle 
fairly  caught  his  breath.  It  was  the  first  quickening 
of  the  spirit  he  had  ever  detected  in  their  unchan 
ging  depths,  and  he  perceived  it  now  with  consterna 
tion;  the  sudden  springing  into  being  of  a  force 
he  could  not  control.  All  that  he  had  predicated 
of  her  capacity  for  passion,  in  the  early  days  of  his 
acquaintance  with  her,  rushed  now  upon  his  mind  in 
a  qualm  of  divination. 

"NotGoodloe!" 

She  did  not  answer,  except  to  press  her  hands  upon 
her  heart,  as  though  to  shield  its  throbbing  from  his 
eyes ;  and  he  added  slowly,  - 

"God  help  you,  child!" 

"  Why  ? "  she  demanded  proudly,  though  a 
frightened  shadow  had  fallen  across  the  radiance 
of  her  eyes.  "  He  has  asked  me  to  marry  him  at 
once;  urged  it !" 

"  Because  he  does  not  love  you,"  said  Carlysle 
tersely. 

"How  can  you  know?  What  right  have  you  to 
say?" 

He  brushed  her  protest  aside  with  kindly  peremp- 
toriness. 

-+  223  H- 


THE    WORLD'S    WARRANT 

"  I  do  know  ;  no  matter  how.  I  know  that  he 
loves  another  woman." 

"  What  other  ?  "  breathlessly. 

"  One  whose  name  shall  not  be  brought  into  this 
discussion  ;  but  you  know  whom  I  mean." 

She  did  not  shiver  or  shrink  under  his  words ;  but 
with  the  instinct  that  wild  animals  have  she  seemed 
slowly  to  be  turning  to  stone,  hiding  herself  from 
him  by  a  sort  of  self-effacement  that  feigned  emo 
tional  death.  Carlysle  went  on  in  troubled  argument, 
which  she  seemed  scarce  to  hear. 

"  When  I  proposed  this  plan  to  you,  it  was  a 
desperate  remedy  for  what  seemed  to  me  —  would 
have  seemed  to  any  man  —  a  desperate  case.  Good- 
loe  might  have  been  the  vilest  brute  unhung,  and  as 
it  is  you  are  taking  a  frightful  risk." 

"  I  can  make  him  love  me  !  When  we  are  mar 
ried  "  - 

"  It  may  never  come  to  marriage."  Carlysle  inter 
rupted  her  gently,  conscious  meantime  of  an  under 
current  of  thought,  that  wondered  what  stuff  James 
Goodloe  could  be  made  of,  that  could  resist  the 
woman  who  stood  before  him  proudly  asserting  her 
ability  to  win  him.  "Have  you  considered  what 
Goodloe's  attitude  may  be  to  a  certain  fact  —  I 
mean,  after  a  certain  disclosure  has  been  made  to 
him,  that  in  honor  cannot  now  be  delayed?  He  must 
know  the  circumstances  of  your  past  life  before  he 
marries  you  ;  and  in  that  case  he  may,  and  justifi- 
-+  224  +- 


LOOK    TO    THE    SOUL 

ably,  refuse  to  fulfill  his  agreement  —  Heavens, 
child,  do  not  look  at  me  like  that! "  He  turned  from 
her,  and  stood  looking  into  the  fire,  with  bent  head, 
for  a  space. 

"  If  I  had  ever  dreamed  of  this  thing  turning  into 
what  it  has  upon  my  hands !  It  seemed  a  perfectly 
simple  thing,  done  every  day.  In  many  of  its  phases 
marriage  is  a  civil  contract ;  no  more,  no  less  ;  plain 
business  !  How  the  deuce  could  I  know  I  was  tan 
gling  myself  up  with  a  bunch  of  naked  souls  ?  Held 
up,  by  Jove,  to  solve  a  problem  the  devil  himself 
could  n't  straighten  out.  I  will  have  no  more  to  do 
with  it" — Carlysle  flung  the  situation  from  him 
with  a  gesture  of  intolerable  annoyance,  only  to  break 
out  a  moment  later,  as,  with  his  hands  behind  him, 
he  paced  his  study  floor. 

"/am  exactly  where  I  was,  squarely  upon  my  ori 
ginal  position.  Is  it  my  fault  that  conditions  have 
slued  round?  When  I  advised  concealing  —  er, 
ignoring,  I  should  say  —  facts  in  your  past,  and 
arranged  things  that  you  might  be  —  er  —  unin- 
cumbered,  I  neither  contemplated  the  possibility  of 
your  becoming  romantically  attached  to  this  man  — 
a  mere  convenience,  as  I  saw  it  !  —  nor  any  of  this 
intricate  complication  about  the  inheritance  of  this 
money.  Do  you  mean  seriously  to  chuck  up  all 
this  property,  for  the  sake  of  a  man  you  've  never 
seen  ?  " 

"  Yes  !  "  she  breathed. 

-H  225  •«- 


THE    WORLD'S    WARRANT 

"  But  have  you  thought  this  thing  out  ?  How,  for 
instance,  do  you  propose  to  conceal  your  identity  with 
lola  Jourdan  ?  If  it  were  put  to  Goodloe,"  -  he 
suddenly  swung  round  upon  her,  intently  alert,  — 
"  I  believe  he  would  refuse  to  let  you  sacrifice  your 
property  !  He  would  if  he  has  a  spark  of  manliness 
in  him." 

"  Never !  "  cried  lola,  with  an  imperiousness  that 
startled  Carlysle.  "  I  have  your  positive  promise,  Mr. 
Carlysle,  made  in  Miss  Caruth's  presence,  that  my 
identity  should  never  be  disclosed  to  this  man,  unless 
he  demanded  it  of  you  or  of  me.  He  has  not  done 
so  ;  and  until  he  does,  I  hold  you  to  your  promise 
that  he  shall  know  me  only  as  Mary  Meadows." 

Their  eyes  met  in  a  brief  trial  of  strength,  each 
striving  to  beat  down  the  other's  guard,  to  penetrate 
the  other's  motive,  to  shake  the  other's  resolve. 

"  I  shall  not  allow  you  to  deceive  this  man,"  said 
Carlysle  firmly.  "  Rather  than  you  should  do  so,  I 
will  take  matters  into  my  own  hands  and  tell  him  " 

"Tell  him  what?" 

"  What  he  must  know  of  Mary  Meadows's  past 
before  he  marries  her." 

"Of  Mary  Meadows's  past?  You  swear  that 
you  will  mention  no  other  name?  Neither  Gallic 
Larkin,  nor  lola  Jourdan,  nor  Miss  Jane  Caruth  ?  " 

Carlysle  shuddered  with  unconcealed  repugnance. 

"  Certainly  not  Miss  Caruth's !  Her  name  is  not 
to  be  connected  with  this  er  —  this  matter,  in  any 
-+  226  +- 


LOOK    TO    THE    SOUL 

degree.  Her  part  in  it  is  done,  and  I  shall  at  once 
break  off  her  connection  with  the  letters.  I  shall 
write  this  last  one  myself.  And  it'  you  insist,"  —  with 
a  shrug,  —  "  the  other  names  shall  be  withheld  as 
well." 

"  I  forgot,"  said  Tola,  with  deadly  bitterness,  "that 
stars  must  not  be  mixed  up  with  roses ! " 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  " 

"Not  nothin'." 

She  stood,  still  threading  the  heavy  lock  through 
her  fingers  as  she  thought. 

"  Will  you  swear,  Mr.  Carlysle,  that  when  you 
tell  Mr.  Goodloe  of  —  of  my  past,  you  will  speak  of 
me  as  Mary  Meadows  and  name  no  other  name  ?  " 

"Yes,"  said  he  reluctantly;  "I  will  keep  the 
word  I  gave  you."  He  offered  her  his  hand  as  he 
spoke,  adding  impetuously  :  "  Upon  my  soul,  Tola,  I 
believe  it  is  better  for  you  in  the  end  to  have  this 
thing  told !  In  the  sort  of  marriage  I  proposed  for 
you  first,  reservations  are  fair  enough;  but  love  — 
and  you  love  this  fellow  enough  to  sacrifice  your 
fortune  for  him,  it  seems  !  —  love*  is  different.  In  a 
marriage  of  love,  your  soul  and  spirit,  as  well  as 
your  past  that  has  gone  into  the  making  of  that 
soul  and  spirit,  belong  equally  to  this  man  and  his 
to  you.  If  you  give  him  love,  take  it  from  him ;  life 
with  him  would  be  hell  with  this  thing  between  you. 
Good-night." 


THE    WORLD'S    WARRANT 


CHAPTER  XIII 

"  The  secret  lay  on  Up  at  brink 
Of  speech,  in  one  fierce  tremble  to  escape." 

IOLA  walked  along  the  corridor  in  the  direction  of 
her  own  room,  each  step  seeming  to  plunge  her  deeper 
into  a  fog  of  wretchedness,  that  had  the  vague  tor 
ture  of  a  nightmare  and  something,  too,  of  a  night 
mare's  poignant  inevitableness. 

This  was  in  part  nervous  reaction  from  the  ex 
citement  of  the  earlier  part  of  the  evening,  when 
the  intoxicating  consciousness  of  her  beauty  had 
strung  her  to  a  buoyant  defiance  of  the  difficulties 
closing  in  upon  her. 

In  the  presence  of  that  brilliant  vision  of  herself 
in  Graeham's  mirror,  she  had  cast  care  from  her. 
That  woman  had  only  to  demand  of  life  to  find  its 
gifts  at  her  feet ! 

The  scene  with  Graeham  had  found  her  upon 
the  crest  of  this  wave  of  triumph,  and  whirled  her 
through  "both  the  infinitudes  of  love  and  hate"  in  a 

O 

moment,  and  left  her  staring  blankly  at  the  curtain 
rung  down  between  her  and  the  stage,  upon  which 
she  had  been  in  the  act  of  stepping.  This  moment 
had  been  the  psychological  crux  of  the  girl's  nature, 
when  the  spiritual  forces  within  her  had  gathered  the 
-.-  228  +- 


THE    SECRET    LAY    ON    LIP 

tides  of  her  being  to  themselves,  leaving  passion's 
old  demesne  bare;  and  it  had  been  followed  in  turn 
by  the  struggle  with  Clark,  when  she  had  fallen  from 
the  full  height  to  which  the  new-born  forces  within 
her  had  raised  her,  in  the  moment  when  she  had 
seen  herself  with  the  eyes  of  the  women  who  had 
refused  to  recognize  her  in  the  dance.  In  the  mo- 

O 

ments  when  she  could  shake  herself  free  of  feeling 
and  think,  she  knew  that  they  did  not  —  could  not 
-  know  aught  of  her  story ;  yet  they  had  marked 
her  out  by  a  thousand  unmistakable  evidences  of 
avoidance.  Her  woman's  instinct  had  divined  that 
jealousy  of  her  beauty  might  account  for  this,  and 
natural  resentment  at  having  one  of  the  hotel  domes 
tics  present  among  them  as  a  guest  might  also  play 
a  part.  But  there  had  been  something  deeper  yet, 
something  she  had  seen  before ;  seen  over  and  over, 
spite  of  their  care,  in  both  Mrs.  Carlysle  and  Miss 
Caruth :  a  shrinking  from  her,  a  distrust  of  some 
thing  in  her  which  they  perceived  and  of  which 
she  was  herself  ignorant,  reflected  back  upon  her 
from  their  unconscious  attitudes.  Had  it  left  some 
stain  upon  her,  then,  —  that  past?  Does  sin  mark  a 
woman  ?  -  Sin  ?  Her  mind  went  back  to  her  life 
with  Peter  Clark,  its  narrow  simplicity,  its  little 
daily  tale  of  simple  cares  and  pleasures ;  for  even 
Clark's  wild  oats  had  been  neatly  fenced  in  by  his 
smug  conservatism  —  with  wonder.  Had  that  been 
sin?  Her  mind  sped  on  to  the  time  when  know- 
-+  229  H- 


THE    WORLD'S    WARRANT 

ledge  had  begun  to  grow  upon  her,  dimming  her 
happiness  with  him  like  breath  upon  a  pane,  until 
life  became  one  aching  bruise  of  suspicion  that  he 
saw  her,  had  seen  her  all  along,  as  she  was  begin 
ning  to  see  herself  in  the  light  of  her  awakening 
consciousness.  Or,  was  the  sin  that  she  no  longer 
cared,  as  Carlysle  said ;  that  she  could  sleep  now  at 
night,  and  not  lie  awake  and  weep  for  the  man  from 
whom  she  had  fled  ? 

Tola  raised  her  hands,  and  pushed  back  her  heavy 
hair  restlessly  as  she  walked.  Do  what  she  would,  she 
could  not  shake  off  the  impression  of  that  struggle 
with  Clark.  His  very  presence  seemed  to  have  plunged 
her — steeped  her!  —  in  the  past,  from  which  she 
thought  she  had  purged  herself.  She  longed  again 
for  the  numbness  of  the  months  when  she  had  first 
known  Carlysle  and  his  wife ;  her  heart  had  been  deaf 
and  dumb  and  blind  in  those  days,  and  she  herself 
like  an  empty  shell,  swept  dry  and  clean  of  passion. 
Those  were  the  days  when  they  had  begun  to  weave 
her  a  future.  She  had  not  cared,  because  she  could 
not  feel ;  she  had  only  longed,  like  a  homesick  child 
shut  out  into  the  night,  for  the  life  she  saw  about 
her,  —  for  the  sheltered,  bright,  reposeful  life,  made 
silken  soft  by  love  and  deference,  that  Mrs.  Carlysle 
and  Miss  Caruth  accepted  as  a  matter  of  course.  It 
was — though  the  girl  had  no  understanding  of  it  — 
the  instinctive  craving  of  a  nature  brought  for  the 
first  time  within  its  hereditary  environment.  Iii  the 
-+  230  •!- 


THE    SECRET    LAY    ON    LIP 

glimpses  that  she  caught  of  Miss  Caruth's  life,  she 
had  marked  with  eager  envy  the  attitude  of  the  men 
about  her,  contrasting:  it  with  what  life  had  shown 

O 

her  of  men ;  and  as  the  months  wore  on,  and  the  mean- 
in^  of  it  worked  into  her  mind,  it  became  a  source  of 

o 

burning  unrest  to  her,  that  was  one  of  jealousy's  most 
subtle  forms  of  torture.  The  expression  of  Graeham's 
eyes  when  he  looked  at  Miss  Caruth,  the  bend  of  his 
head  over  her  as  they  walked  together,  the  wooing 
notes  that  would  come  into  his  voice  (that  he  tried  to 
subdue  in  speaking  to  Jane),  had  been  a  galling  re 
velation  to  lola,  who  knew  so  well  the  blatant  signs 
of  passion,  that  had  not  been  thus  sedulously  hidden 
from  her  eyes.  She  asked  herself  in  jealous  misery 
why,  and  had  found  the  answer  in  her  past,  —  from 
which  these  people,  while  they  had  held  out  their 
hands  to  her  in  help,  had  none  the  less  turned  away 
their  eyes. 

She  had  agreed  to  the  plan  suggested  to  her  by 
Carlysle  in  sheer  indifference,  the  atrophy  of  the 
emotional  part  of  her  seeming  to  have  withered  will 
and  hope  alike;  and  later,  with  the  instinct  of  a  crea 
ture  that  had  always  clung,  she  had  clung  to  it  as  a 
plank  in  the  waste  of  waters. 

Then  had  come  to  her  the  startling  secret  revela 
tion  of  Graeham  as  Goodloe,  bringing  with  it  the 
realization  of  all  that  she  had  grown  so  ardently  to 
desire.  At  the  besinnino;,  love  for  Graeham  as  a 

O  O 7 

man  had  not  consciously  constrained  her  so  much  as 

-+  231  +- 


THE    WORLD'S    WARRANT 

cupidity ;  he  was  the  bread  with  which  to  satisfy  this 
new,  strange  hunger,  that  had  awakened  in  her  like  a 
fierce  little  beast  with  claws.  In  those  early  days  he 
had  been  but  a  means  to  an  end ;  he  opened  the  way 
to  the  dainty  luxury,  the  refinements,  the  pleasures  of 
the  life  she  saw  about  her.  As  she  had  told  Graeham 
long  before,  it  was  not  money  that  she  wanted;  it 
was  merely  that  her  nature  demanded — inarticulately 
enough,  but  none  the  less  insistently  —  its  proper 
environment.  But  with  the  expanding  of  the  deeper 
side  of  her,  under  the  influences  about  her,  had  come, 
inevitably,  deeper  needs.  Across  the  instincts  of  a 
sensuous  and  passionate  nature,  inherited  from  a  long 
line  of  spoiled  and  imperious  women,  were  cast  the 
wavering  shadows  of  her  newly  awakened  spiritual 
life.  Graeham  became  a  spiritual  need.  He  meant 
moral  cleanness  and  spiritual  peace;  her  need  for 
him  was  doubly  imperative;  to  be  his  wife  absolved 
her  in  her  own  thoughts  from  taint  of  her  past,  and 
lifted  her  at  once  to  warm  security,  in  a  world  lined 
and  padded  soft  with  luxury,  —  a  world  that  every 
hidden  force  of  heredity  at  work  within  her  told 
her  was  her  own,  of  which  she  had  someway  been 
despoiled. 

The  scar  where  her  life  had  been  torn  from  Clark's 
had  healed ;  and  the  currents  of  her  being,  quick 
ened  by  the  impetus  of  the  life  about  her,  set  to 
Graeham  in  a  freshet  of  passionate  love,  that  the  un 
tarnished  freshness  of  the  man's  own  vigorous  nature 
-+  232  H- 


THE    SECRET    LAY    ON    LIP 

did  nothing  to  check  as  she  grew  to  know  him  bet 
ter.  A  tactful  use  of  her  semi-domestic  position  in 
the  house  easily  created  for  her  endless  opportunities 
of  meeting  him;  and  secure  in  her  knowledge  of  the 
secret  bond  between  them,  as  well  as  in  his  admira 
tion  (which  he  did  not  attempt  to  conceal  from  her), 
and  absolutely  confident  in  her  own  power  to  deepen 
it  into  love  when  fate  should  elect  a  meeting  between 
them,  the  girl  had  let  herself  go  to  the  full  length  of 
her  nature. 

She  had  divined  Miss  Caruth's  attraction  for  him 
almost  before  Graeham  was  himself  conscious  of  it ; 
but,  involved  in  the  coil  of  her  miserable  secret, 
and  distrusting  frankness,  as  all  super-subtle  natures 
do,  she  had  depended  upon  deepening  her  hold  upon 
him  surreptitiously  against  the  day  of  their  final  dis 
closure  each  to  the  other,  writhing  meantime  under 
Graeham's  half-caressing,  half-rallying,  never  serious 
attitude,  which  accepted  her,  as  she  knew  with  in 
ward  trepidation,  at  the  value  she  had  set  upon  her 
self.  And  though  she  dreaded  the  day  of  reckoning 
that  must  inevitably  come,  unable  to  loose  even  this 
frail  hold  upon  him. 

But  through  all  the  miserable  uncertainties  of  her 
position  her  hope  had  been  in  Carlysle,  that  he  would 
in  the  end  steer  her  safely  through  the  chances  of 
disaster  to  the  card-house  of  her  hopes,  and  with  his 
high-handed  assumption  of  moral  responsibility  for 
other  people,  —  for  in  a  certain  way  the  girl  under- 
-H  233  H- 


stood  Carlysle,  —  insist  upon  the  consummation  of 
the  marriage  ;  and  his  incomprehensible  change  of 
front  at  the  last  minute  had  dazed  her.  His  meretri 
cious  concern  for  her  good  name  and  his  own  honor, 
with  which  he  had  covered  his  determination  to  dis 
close  her  past  to  Goodloe,  and,  for  some  reason  which 
she  could  not  yet  grasp,  break  her  engagement  with 
him,  had  been  the  parting  of  the  last  strand  in  her 
last  cable  of  hope. 

As  she  neared  the  end  of  Carlysle's  suite,  a  door 
at  her  side  opened,  and  Miss  Caruth,  like  a  slim 
crescent  moon,  dimly  seen  in  white  with  hanging 
hair,  called  her  softly.  lola  hesitated,  partly  from 
weariness,  but  more  because  the  note  of  joyousness, 
always  an  undertone  of  Jane's  voice,  to-night  jarred 
unbearably  upon  her  mood  of  tense  misery.  But 
after  a  moment  spent  in  vain  struggle  to  invent  an 
excuse,  she  yielded,  and  let  Miss  Caruth  draw  her 
within. 

"  I  was  listening  for  you,"  said  Jane.  "  Sit  here 
on  the  bed.  I  couldn't  sleep  until  I  knew." 

"  Knew  what  ?  "  Tola's  voice  was  flatly  unrespon 
sive,  and  Miss  Caruth  was  conscious  of  a  slight 
recoil. 

"  Of  course  I  knew  you  were  with  Mr.  Carlysle,  and 
what  you  were  discussing.  Are  you  —  Oh,  Callie, 
what  are  we  to  tell  Mr.  Goodloe  ?  " 

"  Mr.  Carlysle  will  tell  him  ever'thing,"  said  she 
quietly,  with  a  long  look  into  the  other  girl's  eyes. 
-•-  234  +- 


THE    SECRET    LAY    ON    LIP 

Miss  Caruth  was  silent ;  her  lip  was  caught  under 
her  teeth  in  a  quick  gasp  of  fear,  and  her  eyes,  full 
of  gentle  concern,  were  fixed  upon  Tola's  face  with 
half-shy  sympathy.  The  two  girls  had  been  closely 
drawn  together,  and  had  had  deep  insight  into  each 
other's  natures,  since  the  correspondence  with  James 
Goodloe  had  begun.  But  the  contact  had  not  made 
them  friends.  There  had  been  upon  Jane's  part  an 
inexplicable  shrinking,  and  upon  Tola's  a  proud  con 
sciousness  of  the  other's  recoil,  and  a  more  deter 
mined  withdrawal;  though  upon  the  surface  they 
had  met  without  friction,  —  with  a  gentle  forbear 
ance,  indeed,  from  Miss  Caruth,  that  was  torture 
thrice  refined  to  Tola.  Miss  Caruth  put  her  arm 
gently  about  her  unresponsive  figure  now  and  drew 
her  closer,  so  that  the  two  stood  enveloped  in  the 
veil  of  her  hair. 

"  I  am  sure  it  is  best,  Callie,"  she  said  softly ; 
"James  Goodloe  is  the  sort  of  man  to  compel  hon 
esty,  —  he  gives  so  freely  of  himself.  And  some 
thing  tells  me  that  it  will  all  come  right  in  the  end. 
Don't  worry,  you  poor  child." 

lola  did  not  reply ;  her  supple  form  in  the  lace 
and  gauze  yielded  to  the  other's  arm,  with  the  soft 
coldness  of  snow. 

"  There  is   something   in  the  man   himself  that 

makes  me  know  you  have  taken  the  right  course," 

went  on  Jane.  "Jem  Goodloe,"  —  she  broke  off  with 

a  note  of  laughter,  to  cover  the  other's  strained 

-i-  235  H- 


THE    WORLD'S    WARRANT 

quiet.  "  You  don't  mind  my  calling  him  i  Jem/  do 
you,  Callie  ?  He  's  nearly  as  much  my  lover  as  he  is 
yours,  you  know !  He  is  so  true  and  frank  and 
manly  that  he  will  be  sure  to  understand ;  he  is 
just  the  sort  of  man  to  forgive  a  woman  —  any 
thing  !  And  I  know,"  —  Jane  faltered  a  bit  as  she 
strove  to  impart  a  sweet  naturalness  to  the  talk,  spite 
of  the  scarce  veiled  bitterness  of  the  other  girl's 
silence,  —  "I  know  he  never  will  be  able  to  resist 
Claude  !  Nobody  on  earth  could  stand  out  against 
that  darling  baby  !  " 

No  answer  still,  unless  the  unquiet  heaving  of 
the  bosom  under  the  rose-colored  gauze  was  answer. 
Jane  tried  gently  to  draw  Tola  to  a  seat  beside  her. 

o  «/ 

"Sit  here,  Callie,  and  let  us  talk  it  over.  No? 
Poor  child,  it  will  help  —  it  will  ease  the  strain, 
if  no  more,  to  tell  it  to  some  one.  I  know  Mr.  Car- 
lysle  is  kind ;  but  he  is  a  man,  and  I  am  a  girl  like 
yourself.  I  can  try  to  understand." 

lola  freed  herself  restlessly  and  walked  slowly 
about  the  room,  drawing  off  her  gloves.  She  stopped 
at  the  foot  of  the  bed  and  stood  leaning  with  clinched 
hands  upon  the  rail ;  her  form  in  the  brilliant  dra 
peries  suggesting  a  quick  tongue  of  flame,  as  she 
swayed  forward  to  look  down  into  Jane's  face,  who 
sat  withdrawn  into  the  shadows  about  the  bed,  the 
hanging  laces  of  her  nightdress  and  her  unbound 
hair  giving  her  a  spirit-like  indefiniteness  of  outline, 
opposed  to  the  other's  vivid  figure. 
-+  236  H- 


"  'F  I  ax  you  something  will  you  tell  me  ?  " 

"  I  ?  '  hesitated  Miss  Caruth,  appalled  by  the 
quivering  intensity  of  the  appeal,  that  was  like  an 
importunate  hand  laid  upon  her ;  "  I  am  only  a  girl 
like  you,  yourself ;  I  may  not  know,  but  if  I  know 
I  will  tell  you." 

"  I  never  could  do  play-actin',"  began  lola,  in  a 
voice  that  had  it  been  less  purely  musical  must  have 
been  harsh,  it  was  so  dry  and  level,  "  'n'  talk  erbout 
myself  like  I  was  two  f olkses.  But  —  but  I  wanter 
know.  I'm  bound  to  know  !  "  She  paused  abruptly  ; 
and  when  she  spoke  again,  it  wras  in  a  hard,  shamed 
voice.  "  Did  you  ever  hear  tell  erbout  two  kinds  er 
women ;  one  sort  that  men  call  roses,  and  the  other 
sort  stars?  " 

A  flush  rose  in  Jane's  cheek,  and  for  a  moment 
she  covered  her  face  with  her  hands. 

"  Yes,"  she  said  gravely,  her  eyes  shrinking  from 
the  lovely  form  before  her.  "  I  —  of  course  I  know 
what  you  mean,  but  no  man  has  ever  spoken  of  such 
things  in  my  presence." 

After  an  instant,  in  which  lola  remembered  that 
Graeham  had  not  hesitated  to  point  his  cruel  speech  to 
her,  with  the  words  that  clung  like  a  festering  thorn 
in  her  mind ;  and  another,  to  beat  down  the  shame  of 
the  discovery  that  he  should  not  have  so  spoken, — 
would  not  have  so  spoken  to  Miss  Caruth,  —  she  went 
on,  making  clumsy  use  of  the  figure  that  Graeham's 
words  seemed  to  have  branded  upon  her  mind. 
-t-  237  H- 


THE    WORLD'S    WARRANT 

"  'F  there  was  er  woman  that  ever'body  took  to 
be  er  rose,  but  '£  th'  woman  knew  in  her  soul  that 
she  was  er  star  —  that  it  was  on'y  somethin'  that 
she  couldn't  help,  'n'  hated,  oh,  hated  worse  then 
anythin',  that  made  folkses  think  so,  could  she,"  — 
she  paused  to  wet  her  dry  lips  to  force  her  trembling 
voice  on,  —  "could  she  ever  get  to  be  er  star  —  like 
you?" 

Miss  Caruth's  hands  were  clasped  about  her  knees, 
and  she  held  her  solemn  eyes  unfalteringly  upon  the 
white  face  of  the  woman  bending  over  her. 

"  Why  did  she  want  to  be  a  star?"  she  whispered. 
"  Was  it  for  —  for  some  one  else's  sake?  Was  it — 
oh,  Gallic,  was  it  for  —  James  Goodloe's  sake?" 

"  Yes,  for  his  sake." 

"  Then,  yes !  Yes  !  She  could  be  a  star  for  him, 
if  —  if  she  loved  him  enough." 

Jane  was  trembling  nervously  and  her  eyes  were 
wet  with  tears,  as  she  slipped  down  the  bed  and 
kneeled  beside  lola. 

"  Oh,  Gallic,  you  poor,  poor  girl !  Why  have  you 
never  let  us  know  ?  Let  us  help  you  to  be  your  '  star- 
self  '  ?  I  understand  now.  That  was  why  you  gave 
up  the  money  and  —  and  the  other  man  ?  You  could 
not  be  your  better  self,  your  star-self,  as  his  wife  ! 
You  were  right,  oh,  so  right !  and  we  have  been 
wrong.  But  we  did  not  know,  you  see,  and  you  did 
not  tell  us.  I  see ;  with  James  Goodloe  you  can  be 
your  purer,  better  self.  Yes !  There  is  something 
-^  238  -K- 


THE    SECRET    LAY    ON    LIP 

in  him  that  demands  it.  I  have  felt  it  myself  in 
his  letters.  I "  -  She  paused  shyly,  but  went  on 
more  firmly  after  a  moment :  "  I  know  a  man  of  that 
sort,  —  one  of  those  blundering  fellows  ;  yet  all  the 
time  one  knows  that  —  that  he  will  have  the  divine 
in  love  or  nothing.  It  is  the  '  odor  of  the  skies '  for 
him  always."  She  dreamed  a  moment,  with  tender 
eyes  looking  into  the  dusk  of  the  room,  unconscious 
of  the  burning  gaze  that  the  other  girl  fixed  upon 
her  rapt  face.  "  Listen,  lola,"  she  suddenly  resumed 
with  tense  earnestness.  "  Whatever  comes  to  you, 
cling  to  James  Goodloe  !  Hold  to  him,  as  you  would 
to  a  hand  reached  downward  to  you  from  the 
skies ! " 

"  Air  you  in  earnest  ?  "  demanded  lola,  the  words 
stammering  on  her  tongue.  "  You  —  you  won't  never 
stand  in  my  way  ?  You  swear  it  ?  " 

"I  ?  I  stand  in  your  way,  poor  girl !  What  frantic 
nonsense  you  are  talking  !  This  thing  you  call  the 
(  star '  part  of  you  is  the  thing  we  all  are  striving 
for,  I  as  well  as  you;  it  is  what  is  purest  and 
strongest  in  us :  strive  for  it,  Callie ;  fight  for  it  if 
you  have  to ;  but  never,  never  let  it  go." 

"  Will  you  swear  not  to  come  between  us  ?  " 

lola's  face  was  perfectly  colorless ;  and  her  eyes, 
unwaveringly  upon  Miss  Caruth's,  burned  with  a 
deep  flame,  like  the  blue  of  molten  metal. 

"  You  are  nervous  and  overwrought,  Callie,  or  you 
would  not  have  such  fancies.  But  —  yes;  if  it  will 
-+  239  -*- 


make  you  happier,  I  will  swear,  as  solemnly  as  ever 
you  like,  that  I  will  never  take  James  Goodloe  from 

you." 

The  hands  in  Carlysle's  study  had  made  the  circuit 
twice  and  were  edging  round  to  three  before  he  laid 
aside  his  pen,  and,  with  the  frown  of  absorption  still 
upon  his  brow,  blotted  his  signature  to  the  last  sheet, 
with  a  mechanical  accuracy  that  betrayed  hard  con 
centration.  He  threw  himself  back  in  his  chair  at 
last,  plainly  with  the  determination  to  apply  the  test 
of  the  conservative  second  thought  to  the  letter  he 
had  just  finished. 

It  was  addressed  to  James  H.  Goodloe,  and  began 
without  preamble  :  - 

"  Six  months  ago  I  ran  into  a  set  of  circumstances, 
—  or  they  collided  with  me  —  I  can't  say  which, 
though  I  am  willing  to  shoulder  the  initiative,  —  that 
I  presumed  to  think  I  could  adjust  to  the  advantage 
of  one,  possibly  of  both  parties,  with  whom  those 
circumstances  were  most  vitally  concerned." 

Carlysle  ran  his  eye  hurriedly  over  the  couple  of 
sheets  following,  which  contained  a  succinct  account 
of  the  beginning  of  the  correspondence  with  Good 
loe,  set  forth  with  unvarnished  frankness,  that  left 
nothing  concealed,  except  the  single  fact  of  Miss 
Caruth's  agency  in  writing  the  letters.  No  faintest 
reference  had  been  made  to  her  in  the  letter;  and 
having  assured  himself  with  jealous  care  that  the 
-i-  240  H- 


THE    SECRET    LAY    ON    LIP 

elision  was  complete  and  consistent  throughout,  Car- 
lysle  drew  a  sigh  of  relief,  and  passed  on  to  the  next 
sheet,  which  began  :  — 

"  The  affair  has  now  reached  a  point  where,  in 
common  honor  between  men,  it  is  my  duty  to  put  you 
in  possession  of  certain  facts  in  Mary  Meadows's 
past  life;  and  having  done  so,  I  leave  the  outcome 
to  you." 

Two  lines  further  down  he  read  :  — 

"  The  young  lady  is  a  member  of  my  own  house 
hold  ;  I  regard  her  as  a  man  would  a  loved  and 
deeply  regretted  young  sister,  and  I  acknowledge 
the  gravest  responsibility  for  her  future.  I  do  this 
duty  demanded  of  me  by  my  conscience,  believing 
that  I  am  acting  for  her  ultimate  happiness  and 
good." 

A  dozen  terse  lines  followed,  in  which  the  fact 
that  dominated  Mary  Meadows's  brief  past  was  told 
with  unshaded  meaning.  The  naked  fact,  without 
blame  as  without  extenuation,  was  left  with  Goodloe, 
and  the  writer  took  up  his  subject  further  along:  — 

"  Whatever  your  personal  attitude  to  a  situation 
of  this  sort  may  be,  there  is  in  most  men  a  reserve 
of  judgment,  based  upon  their  knowledge  of  the 
demands  that  life  makes  alike  upon  men  and  women, 
that  in  its  working  more  nearly  approximates  jus 
tice  to  the  woman  in  such  cases  than  any  other 
judgment  known  to  me ;  and  it  is  to  this  quality  in 
you,  Goodloe,  that  I  appeal  for  this  girl  against 
-»•  241  +- 


THE    WORLD'S    WARRANT 

her  past.  I  dare  say  we  should  not,  as  men,  vary 
appreciably  in  the  essentials  that  make  for  purity  in 
a  woman ;  and  I  swear  to  you  from  the  bottom  of 
my  soul  that  I  believe  Mary  Meadows  to  be  a  pure 
woman,  despite  the  fact  that  her  child  was  born  out 
side  the  pale  of  statutory  law." 

"My  inner  imperative,"  he  resumed  toward  the 
last  page  of  the  letter,  "thus  far,  has  been  justice 
to  you ;  I  have  placed  the  facts  with  you ;  the  re 
sult  must  be  a  transaction  between  your  conscience 
and  you.  What  further  I  shall  say  here  is  said  in 
the  woman's  interest,  and  is  dictated  by  my  earnest 
desire  to  secure  her  happiness,  regardless  of  the 
seeming  inconsistencies  of  my  own  position  in  say 
ing  it." 

The  following  page  or  two  had  given  Carlysle  a 
bad  half -hour;  it  had  been  hard  writing,  —  each  word 
weighed  to  express  the  nethermost  shade  of  mean 
ing,  and  yet  leave  the  infinitesimal  chink  for  retreat. 
It  had  been  clever  juggling ;  self-interest  and  pol 
icy,  inclination  and  duty,  kept  deftly  spinning,  until 
the  eye  of  conscience  failed  to  distinguish  between 
them.  To  keep  the  letter  of  a  promise  and  violate 
the  spirit  is  not  plain  sailing,  when  it  comes  to  black 
and  white,  and  the  primary  meaning  of  English 
words. 

The  furrow  in  Carlysle' s  forehead  deepened  as  he 
read ;    he  lifted  his  handkerchief  delicately  to  his 
brow,  where  drops  of  sweat  were  beaded. 
-H-  242  -i- 


THE    SECRET    LAY    ON    LIP 

"Mary  Meadows  takes  a  woman's  view  of  the  mat 
ter,  the  view  of  a  woman  with  a  naturally  innocent 
and  unworldly  mind  ;  she  conceives  herself  bound 
in  honor  to  fill  her  engagement  with  you,  in  spite 
of  the  fact  that  she  loves  another  man.  She  is  will 
ing  to  marry  you,  should  you  demand  it;  though  to 
do  so  will  be  to  sacrifice  her  heart,  which  this  man 
holds,  and,  to  be  frank,  a  prospect  that  in  a  worldly 
way  is  exceedingly  advantageous. 

"  Except  for  this  contingency,  it  is  possible  that 
her  happiest  destiny  might  have  been  as  your  wife  ; 
but  we  are  dealing  with  brutal  facts,  my  dear  Good- 
loe,  and  the  plain  truth  is  that  there  is  another  man, 
and  that  Mary  Meadows  loves  him,  and  he  loves 
her  and  is  anxious  to  make  her  his  wife.  He  is,  as  I 
have  hinted  above,  a  man  of  great  wealth;  and  he 
would  lift  her  at  once  into  a  sphere  where  her  beauty 
and  social  talents  would  easily  secure  her  prestige, — 
the  position  to  which  she  was  undoubtedly  born, 
for  Mary  Meadows  is  a  woman  of  good  blood  and 
family. 

"  I  deplore  this  state  of  things  very  earnestly,  but 
I  appeal  to  your  manhood  to  prevent  the  sacrifice  of 
this  woman's  life  to  a  vicarious  pledge. 

"  You  and  I  both  know  that  when  the  last  word 
shall  have  been  said  for  expediency,  love  is  the 
only  life  for  a  woman.  Enough  has  passed  between 
the  young  lady  and  the  man  I  mention,  to  assure  me 
that  I  make  no  mistake  in  thinking  that  a  close  and 
-H-  243  +- 


THE    WORLD'S    WARRANT 

tender  bond  exists  between  them;  and  I  put  it  to 
you,  for  the  sake  of  the  girl's  happiness,  to  quietly 
let  this  thing  drop,  without  exposure  for  her. 

"  I  must  appear  to  you  an  unmitigated  ass  —  none 
the  less  egregious  because  crassly  well-meaning  ! 
My  hope  is  that  the  future  may  justify  me  in  your 
eyes." 

"  That  ought  to  fetch  him,  if  he 's  the  fellow  I 
take  him  for,  —  and  leave  Peter  a  clear  track,"  mur 
mured  Carlysle.  "  Jove,  it  was  hard  work  steering 
round  those  snags  of  conscience !  It  takes  a  more 
robust  moral  constitution  than  mine  to  set  a  lie  down 
in  black  and  white.  That  cursed  water  power  !  " 

He  rose  with  a  moody  sigh,  that  melted  character 
istically  into  a  laugh. 

"  What  between  Jane's  little  flounces,  that  must 
be  kept  out  of  the  puddle  at  all  costs,  and  Mary 
Meadows  —  the  blamed  little  simpleton  !  and  Callie 
— Jove,  how  she  looked  me  through  to-night !  and 
now,  lola !  —  I  am  as  pestered  with  women  as  if  I 
was  a  gay  philanderer,  instead  of  a  perfectly  respect 
able  married  man  doing  a  bit  of  financiering !  " 


INFINITE    PASSION" 


CHAPTER  XIV 

".   .   .   The  pain 
Of  finite  hearts  that  yearn." 

THE  gray  end  of  a  spring  evening  was  soaking  the 
brave  new  green  from  the  fields  and  sponging  the 
sunset  colors  from  the  river,  with  folds  of  twilight 
trailing  from  a  dun  sky. 

A  bleak  wind  was  abroad  on  the  flat  stretches 
of  the  river  lands,  hustling  the  rash  young  foliage 
like  a  shrewish  housewife ;  cuffing  the  fluffy  willow 
catkins,  and  bending  the  lush  canes  along  the  river- 
bank  ;  browbeating  the  sturdy  thickets  of  young 
cottonwoods,  until  they  wrung  their  hands  in  panic 
and  turned  the  pale  undersides  of  their  leaves  to 
heaven,  in  fluttering  protest  that  it  was  close  on 
April,  and  time  for  cottonwoods  to  be  on  hand. 

The  window  in  Miss  Caruth's  sitting-room  looked 
across  the  fields,  and  from  the  settle  in  the  embra 
sure  she  surveyed  the  wan  landscape,  with  eyes  that 
seemed  to  have  ravished  the  afterglow  from  fields 
and  river  and  turned  it  inward  to  her  own  heart,  to 
shine  in  still  radiance  from  her  dreaming  eyes. 

The  room  at  her  back  was  lighted  only  by  a  wood 
fire  and  the  borrowed  sunlight  of  masses  of  daffodils 
loading  the  tables.  Miss  Caruth  was  gowned  in  pale 
-+  245  +- 


THE    WORLD'S    WARRANT 

yellow,  to  accent  the  color  scheme  of  the  room,  or 
it  may  have  been  to  recall  a  memory :  this  latter 
possibly,  for  she  touched  the  yellow  primroses  that 
she  wore  with  an  absent  caress,  and  a  smile  as  elu 
sive  and  sweet  as  their  delicate  perfume ;  pressing 
them  closer  to  her,  as  though  they  were  in  the  secret 
of  the  quick  throbbing  of  her  heart  that  made  them 
tremble,  and  her  hurried  breath  that  quivered  in  a 
long  sigh  through  closed  lips,  as  the  door  opened 
and  Graeham  crossed  the  room  toward  her. 

They  met  with  the  air  of  having  been  but  briefly 
parted  :  neither  spoke  ;  Miss  Caruth  gave  him  her 
hands,  and  he  raised  them  to  his  lips,  kissed  them 
gravely,  and  stood  holding  them  against  his  breast, 
looking  down  upon  her  in  unsmiling  silence. 

"  Does  it  seem  any  more  real,  Jane?" 

"  A  little  more,  perhaps.  But  I  am  not  yet  sure 
that  I  shall  not  wake  presently,  and  hear  Jim  won 
dering  where  '  Graeham  can  have  got  himself.' 
Those  first  days  before  we  had  your  cable,  he  said 
it  over  and  over."  Jane  paused,  with  a  soft  intake 
of  her  breath  that  was  a  history  of  the  days  she  men 
tioned,  before  she  went  on,  with  rather  tremulous 
lightness:  "  You  can't  think  what  it's  like  when 
you  are  not  here  !  " 

"  I  know  what  it  is  like  everywhere  where  you  are 

not,"  replied  Graeham,  with  a  controlled  gentleness 

that  was  almost  hard.     "  Forget  those  weeks,  won't 

you?  What  do  they  count  against  a  lifetime  spent 

-+  246  -^ 


-INFINITE    PASSION' 

together  ?  Let  us  date  life  from  this  hour,  and  blot 
out  all  that  went  before.  Shall  we,  Jane  ?  " 

"  Oh,"  breathed  Jane,  and  again  her  lightness  was 
a  trifle  forced,  "blot  out  our  first  ride  together?" 

"  No,  not  that ;  I  did  not  mean  that." 

"  And  our  talk  in  the  hut  by  the  river  that  day, 
when  you  called  me  your  ideal  ?  I  could  not !  " 

Graeham  moved  restlessly.  "  We  do  not  need 
ideals  now,"  he  said  unsteadily ;  "  we  have  the  real 
thing,  you  know." 

"  And  our  footprints  in  the  snow,  side  by  side," 
—  dreamily,  —  "  do  you  remember  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  remember.    Not  that,  either." 

"  Tell  me  just  what  you  want  to  blot  out,  dear." 

"  Nothing,"  -  hurriedly.  "  This  hour  here  to 
gether  is  so  perfect — if  we  could  key  our  life  to  come 
to  its  note  !  It  was  some  such  thought  that  I  was 
reaching  for,  I  dare  say.  Let  it  go.  What  else  could 
I  have  meant?  " 

"  There  is  nothing  lacking  in  the  perfectness  of 
this  hour,  is  there?  "  Jane  pursued  dreamily,  yet  with 
an  underlying  purpose  that  Graeham  divined.  They 
were  still  standing  together,  and  as  she  spoke  Jane 
leaned  lightly  against  Graeham,  looking  upward  for 
his  answer ;  and  after  an  instant  of  hesitation  that 
betrayed  a  trace  of  effort,  he  bent  his  head  and  laid 
his  cheek  against  her  hair. 

"  Nothing,"  he  said,  in  reply  to  her  question, 
striving  to  keep  down  the  harsh  note  that  once 
-+  247  +- 


THE    WORLD'S    WARRANT 

or  twice  had  broken  through  the  restraint  of  his 
voice. 

"  Why  should  it  not  always  be  so  perfect,  —  our 
whole  life  together  ?  " 

"  Ah,  why  indeed,  when  we  have  each  other  !  " 
His  voice  rang  strong  and  steady  this  time,  warmed 
by  a  touch  of  lightness  as  he  went  on  :  "  You  have 
on  the  yellow  gown,  and  primroses  in  your  hair. 
That 's  a  part  of  the  l  perfectness,'  is  it?  " 

"  You  remember  !  Yes  ;  I  put  the  gown  on  pur 
posely." 

"  So  like  a  woman  to  hit  a  man  when  he 's 
down !  " 

"It's  odd,"  said  the  girl,  after  a  pause,  breaking 
the  silence  that  had  fallen  between  them.  These 
silences  that  Graeham  made  no  effort  to  break  made 
Jane  restless  ;  she  seemed  each  time  to  have  to  work 
her  way  through  them,  stone  by  stone,  back  to  him. 
"  It 's  odd  we  don't  want  to  talk,  is  n't  it  ?  In 
books  newly  engaged  people  seem  to  spend  their 
entire  time  sitting  upon  the  sofa,  hand  in  hand,  un 
folding  their  past  to  each  other." 

"  That's  to  make  the  fellow's  plot  go — the 
fellow  writing  the  book,  you  know.  In  real  life  it 's 
the  other  way  round." 

"Who  makes  the  plot  go  in  life?"  asked  she 
idly,  to  beat  back  the  silence  that  threatened  to  win 
him  from  her  again. 

"  The  devil,"  said  Graeham,  so  calmly  as  to 
-i-  248  +- 


"INFINITE    PASSION' 

deprive  the  word  of  profanity  ;  as  he  said  it,  it  was 
a  simple,  stern  affirmation.  "What  men  called  fate, 
you  know,  when  men  believed  in  fate.  Come,"  —he 
met  Jane's  remonstrant  eyes  with  a  smile,  as  he 
drew  her  to  the  piano ;  —  "I  've  thought  of  something 
that  may  make  our  hour  a  bit  more  perfect.  Music, 
you  know.  Play  for  me,  and  let  me  sit  beside  you 
here,  not  thinking  or  feeling  ;  just  dreaming  —  yes, 
dreaming  of  the  ideal !  " 

Jane  played  an  absent  prelude,  with  her  eyes, 
under  sidelong  lashes,  on  Graeham's  face,  —  in 
shadow  except  where  the  light  from  the  piano  lamp 
touched  his  mouth  and  chin. 

Graeham  had  the  mobile,  emotional  lips  of  a  poet ; 
the  passionate,  impetuous,  naively  earnest  mouth  of 
the  man  to  whom  ideals  have  the  significance  of 
actualities.  Men  of  this  sort  follow  their  ideals,  with 
every  whit  the  same  keenness  and  energy  that  they 
put  into  the  pursuit  of  the  material  :  they  bend 
every  force  in  them  to  their  attainment,  with  precisely 
the  same  directness  that  they  go  about  their  business 
in  life;  and  strangely  enough,  never  perceive  the 
unreality  of  them,  until  their  outstretched  hands 
close  on  nothingness.  They  suffer  —  such  men  —  a 
thousand-fold  more  in  losing1  them  than  the  man  of 

O 

subtler  mind,  who  from  an  intellectual  viewpoint  per 
ceives  the  ideal  to  be  a  beautiful  and  necessary  corol 
lary  to  the  scheme  of  life,  —  a  safety  valve  for  man's 
spiritual  nature,  an  equivalent  for  the  nth  power  of 

-+  249  H- 


THE    WORLD'S    WARRANT 

divine  law.    These  men,  laying  life  back  fold  on  fold 
to  its  core,  say  calmly, — 

"  Here 's  law  ;  where 's  God  ?  " 

But  to  Graeham's  sort,  the  ideal  is  as  real  as  the 
material,  —  it  is  bone  of  their  bone;  and  the  shock 
of  parting  with  it  jars  the  very  centre  of  the  man's 
being. 

Miss  Caruth's  eyes  brooded  upon  his  unconscious 
face,  lingering  upon  the  lines  of  suffering  about  his 
mouth,  newly  come  there.  What  was  it  —  something 
added  or  something  lost  since  she  had  seen  him  — 
that  made  the  difference  ?  Was  the  unveiled  face  of 
his  love  less  tender  than  she  had  dreamed  it,  veiled? 
Less  strong?  No,  no.  Had  its  exquisite  reverence 
lost  by  a  shade,  in  possession  ?  His  glance,  his 
touch,  had  scarce  claimed  her ;  or  was  it  — 

Graeham  looked  up  and  met  her  musing  eyes  with 
a  smile,  and  she  swayed  toward  him  unconsciously, 
as  a  flame  might  be  sucked  outward  by  a  draft. 

"  That  frantic  rush  to  the  other  side  and  back 
has  tired  you  more  than  you  will  confess,  Camp. 
You  've  actually  grown  a  little  gray,  did  you  know, 
dear?" 

She  laid  her  lips  upon  the  short  locks  on  Graeham's 
brow,  as  he  leaned  toward  her. 

"  Don't  tempt  my  mendacity,"  he  told  her,  with 
a  smile;  "  I  'd  swear  I  was  a  cripple,  halt  and  blind, 
to  keep  your  lips  there  a  moment  longer !    It  was 
-H  250  -.- 


"INFINITE    PASSION" 

not  much  of  a  trip,  though.    I  changed  from  one 
boat  to  another,  and  came  right  back." 

"  And  to  think  you  need  not  have  gone,  if  you'd 
only  known." 

"About  old  Jourdan's  heir  showing  up,  you  mean? 
Odd,  its  being  the  little  Delilah  of  the  linen  closet, 
after  all,  is  n't  it  ?  And  to  think  of  her  nerve ! 
Right  here  in  the  midst  of  it  all  the  time,  and  never 
turn  a  hair.  And  so  she's  chucked  the  money,  '  all 
for  love,  and  the  world  well  lost,'  eh  ?  It 's  like  her 
not  to  count  the  cost." 

"  Ah,"  Miss  Caruth  sighed  softly,  "  poor  Gallic  ! 
She  gave  it  all  for  love,  but  it  was  not  *  well  lost ' ! " 

"  What,  the  fellow  not  worth  the  broken  bits  of 
her  alabaster  box?" 

"  It  seems  not ;  and  yet  —  It  has  been  a  most  cruel 
thing  !  She  sacrificed  her  fortune  for  his  sake,  you 
know,  and  he  has  thrown  her  over." 

"  The  cursed  cad  !  " 

Jane  had  been  striking  soft  minor  chords,  that 
fell  in  with  their  voices  as  they  talked  and  filled  the 
pauses ;  and  she  kept  her  face  turned  from  Graeham 
to  the  keyboard  as  she  went  on  speaking. 

"  I  told  you  a  bit  of  her  story  once ;  do  you  re 
member  ?  " 

"No.    Where  was  it?" 

"  In  the  hut  by  the  river  that  day.  I  asked  your 
advice  for  a  friend,  you  remember  ?  Gallic  was  the 
friend." 

-+  251  i- 


THE    WORLD'S    WARRANT 

Graeham's  eyes,  that  had  been  blank  with  the 
effort  to  remember,  flashed  suddenly  into  startled 
life;  a  grayish  shadow  settled  about  his  lips;  he 
sat  erect  in  his  chair,  with  the  slightly  dazed  expres 
sion  that  a  man  wears  when  he  's  struck  by  a  bullet 
before  he  has  time  to  feel  the  pain. 

"Friend?"  he  echoed  blankly;  "what  friend?" 

"Callie — Tola  Jourdan  now — was  the  friend.  I 
gave  you  a  slightly  altered  version  of  her  story. 
I  told  you  that  she  was  engaged  to  one  man  and 
loved  the  other,  and  I  asked  you"  — 

Graeham's  breath  had  stopped  on  his  lips ;  his 
heavy,  immobile  face  grew  slowly  into  a  masque  cut 
from  gray  stone. 

"You  asked  me? — I  forget  what  it  was,"  he 
said  dully. 

"  There  had  been  two  men  in  her  life,  and  I 
thought  she  loved  the  first  man  ;  but  I  was  wrong, 
oh,  so  wrong.  She  had  never  loved  any  man  but 
James  Goodloe,  the  man  to  whom  she  was  engaged. 
It  was  he  for  wrhom  she  sacrificed  her  fortune,  and 
who  has  thrown  her  off  because  of  —  of  the  other 
man." 

A  slight  sweat  came  upon  Graeham's  lip  as  he 
leaned  forward  to  catch  Jane's  words,  as  she  sat  a 
little  turned  from  him,  stretching  her  hands  along 
the  keys. 

"  Where  had  she  met  James  Goodloe  ?  " 

"  Ah,  that  is  the  story  I  could  not  tell  you  that 
•H.  252  +- 


"INFINITE    PASSION' 

day,  you  remember?  But  now  —  all  my  thoughts 
are  yours,  are  they  not  ?  " 

"  Yes ;  all  mine.    Tell  it  me  now." 

"  Poor  Callie  had  been  very  unhappy,  you  know, 
dear;  some  one  in  her  life — this  other  man  had  — 
had  "  — 

"  I  understand.    You  tried  to  help  her?  " 

"  Not  I  so  much  as  Mr.  Carlysle.  We  were  all 
interested  in  her,  but  Jim  was  very  much  touched 
by  her  desolation  and  her  bravery  —  he  called  it 
that.  But  she  was  very  hard  to  help;  so  impossible, 
you  know !  This  man,  James  Goodloe,  had  advertised 
for  a  wife  in  some  preposterous  paper,  and  Jim  took 
up  the  plan  to  marry  Callie  to  him,  —  merely  as 
an  experiment ;  he  was  hardly  serious  at  all  at  first. 
But  Mr.  Goodloe  seemed  such  a  fine  fellow,  so  dif 
ferent  from  what  one  would  expect  from  his  doing 
such  an  unthinkable  thing,  and  poor  Callie  was  too 
dead  to  care,  and  so  it  went  on.  Jim  did  not  dare 
to  put  her  life  back  in  her  own  hands,  —  anything 
seemed  better  than  that,  —  and  he  hoped  to  see  her 
safely  married  to  this  good  fellow;  I  still  think 
something  will  turn  up  some  day  to  exonerate  him! 
Yes,  the  story !  I  wrote  the  letters  for  Callie,  as  she 
cannot  write,  and  it  all  went  beautifully.  lola  was 
so  lonely  and  forsaken,  poor  girl,  that  she  began  to 
love  him  ;  at  first  I  suppose  to  fill  her  empty  life,  and 
then,  why  she  let  herself  go  and  loved  him  with  all 
her  heart.  Then  came  this  other  thing  about  Chin- 
•H.  253  H- 


THE    WORLD'S    WARRANT 

quepin  Falls;  and  almost  the  same  day  that  Mr. 
Goodloe  had  written  to  her  to  meet  him  in  New 
York,  Jim  found  out  that  she  was  Tola  Jourdan,  and 
he  wanted  her  to  throw  over  Mr.  Goodloe  for  the 
sake  of  the  money  — but  you  know  how  that  turned 
out.  But  there  was  the  story  of  her  wretched  past, 
that  had  to  be  told,  for  Jim  would  not  let  her 
marry  him  without  telling  him.  There  was  a  fearful 
struggle  before  she  would  give  in,  but  at  last  she 
consented,  and  Jim  wrote  " 

"  My  God ! "  said  Graeham  slowly,  the  words  seem 
ing  to  be  shaken  from  his  lips  upon  a  deep  note  of 
anger.  He  rose  and  walked  forward  blindly  into  the 
room,  with  his  hands  clinched  at  his  sides.  "  My  God, 
how  I  have  been  tricked,  baited,  by  that  madman  ! " 
He  reached  the  mantel-shelf  across  the  room,  and, 
dropping  his  arms  upon  it,  bowed  his  head  upon 
them.  All  consciousness  of  Jane  was  swept  from  his 
mind  by  a  passion  of  remorse  and  anger,  that  made 
him  blind  and  deaf  for  the  moment  to  all  but  the  tur 
moil  within  his  own  soul,  where  he  raged  dumbly  — 
as  men  raged  in  futile  rebellion  against  their  gods  in 
olden  times,  when  men  thought  the  gods  meddled 
and  made  in  men's  affairs  —  against  himself,  Car- 
lysle,  and  the  non-responsible,  malignant  circum 
stance  that  had  strangled  his  reason  in  its  toils. 

Brute,  fool,  madman  that  he  had  been !  As  he 
lay  there  with  buried  eyes,  his  mind,  like  a  hunted 
hare,  fled  backward  through  the  labyrinth  of  events 
-t-  254  -.- 


that  had  ensnared  him.  The  letter,  the  ring,  the 
necklace,  each  fitted  now  with  maddening  smooth 
ness  into  the  chain  of  clear,  uncompromising  rea 
son,  —  all  but  Carlysle's  letter ;  that  had  yet  to  be 
reckoned  with,  —  its  clever  casuistry  clothed  in 
damnable  ambiguity.  And  on  such  evidence  as  that 
he  had  condemned  her! — let  Carlysle's  supple  mere- 
triciousness  weigh  against  his  faith  in  her  ! 

The  sting  of  remorseful  tenderness  woke  Grae- 
ham  to  consciousness  of  the  present.  He  turned 
back  to  her,  and  she  met  him  in  silence,  and  in 
silence  still  locked  her  arms  about  him  with  tender 
strength.  She  did  not  question  him  —  as  well  ques 
tion  a  storm-cloud  with  a  thunderbolt  in  it  as  a  man 
with  a  face  like  Graeham's ;  but  she  clung  to  him, 
telling  him  by  the  close  pressure  of  her  arms  that, 
whatever  his  fight  might  be,  she  was  fighting  it  with 
him  heart  to  heart. 

Graeham  dropped  upon  the  floor  at  her  feet,  hid 
ing  his  head  against  her,  crumpling  her  gown  in  his 
hands,  pressing  remorseful  kisses  upon  its  folds,— 
with  hoarse  words  of  pleading,  of  passion,  of  rapture, 
mingled  with  curses  that  rang  strangely  in  the  girl's 
ears. 

She    left    him   so   a    moment,   quivering    herself 

under  the  stress  of  his  emotion,  still  not  speaking, 

-  only  bending  over  him,  soothing  him  with  mute 

caresses,  pressing  his  head  against  her  almost  as  a 

mother  might  have  done. 

—i-  255  -i— 


THE    WORLD'S    WARRANT 

"  Don't,  Jane,  don't,"  he  murmured  brokenly,  as 
she  found  his  clinched  hands,  and  opening  them 
drew  his  arms  about  her. 

"Don't  what,  dearest?" 

"  Be  good  to  me,  love  me." 

"  Not  love  you  !  When  you  have  told  me  what  is 
troubling  you,  we  will  talk  about  my  not  loving  you ; 
but  I  cannot,  cannot,  stand  this." 

"  I  know  ;  but  't  is  better  borne  than  knowledge, 
Janet." 

"  Yet  I  must  know.  Oh,  Camp,  tell  me,  tell 
me!" 

"  Ay.  Will  you  sit  beside  me  while  I  tell 
you?" 

"  Why  not?"  in  wonder. 

"  You  will  know  why  not  in  a  minute.  Oh,  Jane, 
Jane,  I  have  been  in  hell  since  I  had  Carlysle's 
letter ! " 

"Carlysle's  letter?"  she  breathed  wonderingly. 
"To  you?" 

Graeham  drew  the  letter  from  his  pocket  and, 
leaning  forward  with  his  arms  upon  his  knees,  stared 
moodily  at  it,  his  brow  black  with  anger. 

"  Let  me  think  a  bit  first,  Jane  —  think  how  to 
unwind  this  damnable  snarl.  But  there 's  no  un 
winding  it ;  best  cut  it  through  at  a  stroke." 

He  took  her  hands,  and  drew  her  eyes  firmly  to 
meet  his  own. 

"Jane,  I  am  the  man  to  whom  you  have  been  writ- 
-i-  256  H- 


"INFINITE    PASSION' 

in<r  for  months  as  Goodloe.    It  was  I  who  courted 

O 

Mary  Meadows  in  those  letters ;  offered  her  marriage ; 
pursued  her ;  urged  her ;  and,  cur  that  I  am,  flung 
her  over  at  the  last  minute.  Ah,  don't  take  away 
your  hands,  Jane  !  " 

"What  can  this  mean?"  The  girl's  voice  died 
on  her  lips.  "  You,  my  —  my  " 

"  Yes,  your  lover  !  It  will  be  plain  in  a  moment. 
But  come  back  to  me,  Jane  ;  come  back,  dear." 

His  open  arms  dropped  to  his  sides,  as  he  saw  that 
she  did  not  hear  him ;  her  eyes  were  fastened  on 
him,  with  a  tense  question  in  them  that  cut  to  his 
consciousness  like  a  shrill-edged  cry  in  the  night.  A 
bunch  of  the  primroses  she  had  worn  on  her  dress 
lay  at  Graeham's  feet,  crushed  in  his  embrace.  He 
picked  them  up,  and  with  his  eyes  upon  them  began 
to  speak  in  an  even  tone,  almost  without  expression, 
only  the  veins  that  swelled  upon  his  forehead  and 
neck  betraying  that  it  was  enforced. 

"James  Goodloe  is  my  business  manager  at  the 
mills  in  Redfalls,  and  the  best  friend  I  have  on 
earth.  He  's  the  cleanest  man  I  've  ever  known,  and 
the  truest  and  the  sanest,  and  the  most  completely 
disillusioned.  I  was  a  lad  when  I  met  him  first,  way 
back  in  those  days  that  I  gave  you  a  glimpse  of  that 
day  by  the  river.  I  was  a  lump  of  raw  nature  in 
those  early  days,  —  I  was  about  to  say,  no  more:  but 
the  divine  molecule  must  have  been  hidden  some 
where  in  the  mass ;  and  as  I  grew  to  manhood,  still 
-h  257  -K- 


THE    WORLD'S    WARRANT 

a  crude,  lumpish  chap,  I  got  to  believing  in  that 
atom  in  myself ;  to  find  it  more  real  than  anything 
else.  I  knew  that  what  it  stood  for  was  in  the 
world  somewhere,  and  that  some  day  I  'd  meet  it ; 
and  then  "  — 

"The  ideal?"  Jane  whispered,  so  softly  that  her 
lips  only  formed  the  words. 

"  Yes !  And  living  women,  the  sort  I  met  and 
knew  in  those  days,  palled  beside  its  charm.  Well, 
let  me  get  through  with  this.  By  this  time,  you 
know,  I  was  a  man,  and  had  found  myself,  and  in 
the  next  dozen  years  my  work  filled  my  life  from 
bank  to  bank  ;  I  needed  nothing  else.  But  I  was 
growing  like  a  young  oak  tree,  that  sucks  in  life 
at  every  pore,  from  its  topmost  leaflet  to  its  last 
deep  sucker  under  ground;  and  with  my  manhood 
came  the  deeper  needs  —  the  hunger  for  the  things 
that  manhood  craves.  I  cut  loose  from  my  busi 
ness,  and  went  into  the  world."  Graeham  rose  and 
walked  about  the  room  for  a  few  minutes,  deep  in 
thought. 

"  I  '11  skip  the  record  of  those  two  years,  Jane," 
he  said  at  last  quietly,  as  he  took  his  seat  again 
beside  her,  "  and  get  on  to  how  I  got  into  this  thing 
with  this  woman,  Mary  Meadows. 

"  It  was  after  that  time  that  I  have  passed  over : 

I  had  gone  back  to  work  again  ;  and  as  it  had  got  to 

mean  a  great  deal  to  me  to  have  Goodloe  near  me,  I 

put  in  a  good  bit  of  time  at  the  mills  at  Redfalls. 

-+  258  -f- 


"INFINITE    PASSION' 

I  was  sick  of  life,  and  hungry  for  it,  too ;  savage 
with  want,  yet  too  bitter  and  nauseated  with  what 
I'd  had  to  care  to  seek  anything  different;  couldn't 
believe  there  was  anything  different!  Then  Good- 
loe  conceived  this  thing.  And  unless  you  knew  the 
man,  you  could  never  fully  understand  the  spirit  in 
which  he  went  into  it.  Goodloe  has  a  soul  like  a 
clean,  new  deal  board,  plumbed  by  a  spirit-level. 
He  recognizes  love  as  force,  like  any  other ;  it 's  a 
form  of  energy  to  him,  like  steam  or  electric  cur 
rent;  and  he  handled  my  case  that  way.  Let  him? 
Oh,  yes,  I  let  him  !  I  did  not  care.  I  did  n't  take 
much  notice  when  he  inserted  the  first  letter,  and 
not  much  more  —  oh,  Janet,  think  of  that !  —  not 
over  much  when  the  letter  came  in  reply,  though 
I  answered  it.  But  the  next  letter  took  hold  of 
me.  The  essence  that  breathed  from  it  was  the  thing 
I  had  been  seeking  all  my  life.  I  was  beside  myself 
with  excitement,  anticipation.  The  salt  had  found 
its  savor  again,  with  a  vengeance.  But  Goodloe  had 
a  dozen  theories,  that  I  had  to  throttle  one  by  one  ! 
His  mind  acts  precisely  like  that  atmosphere  out 
there ;  things  stand  out  clearly  to  him,  with  no 
1  effects  '  of  sentiment  or  imagination.  He  saw,  —  we 
both  saw,  for  the  matter  of  that,  —  a  man's  hand  in 
the  thing ;  and  he  would  have  it  that  some  writer 
or  psychological  crank  was  studying  the  thing  from 
the  woman's  side,  and  that  the  very  thing  that  had 
caught  me  was  a  clever  ruse  upon  the  fellow's  part 
-h  259  +- 


to  make  it  go.  It  ended  in  my  coming  to  Alabama 
to  sift  matters  and  find  the  woman,  —  if  it  was  a 
woman,  —  carrying  on  the  correspondence  through 
Goodloe  meanwhile. 

"  You  know  the  rest,  Jane.  I  met  you,  and  from 
the  very  first  the  same  charm  gripped  me,  but  with  a 
thousand  times  the  potency.  I  recognized  it,  puzzled 
over  it ;  but  how  connect  the  two  ?  I  met  the  other 
woman,  also,  you  know  ;  but  again,  how  could  I 
associate  the  delicate  refinement  that  breathed  from 
Mary  Meadovvs's  letters  with  " —  Graeham  laughed 
harshly  — "  with  Delilah  of  the  linen  closet  ?  It  was 
the  composite  personality  that  puzzled  me,  had  puz 
zled  even  Goodloe's  shrewdness.  What  we  neither 
could  understand  was,  that  a  woman  who  could  have 
written  those  letters  should  have  done  so.  So  plain 
now,  as  it  is  ! 

"  Then  I  found  I  was  getting  to  love  you.  I  am 
thirty-seven  years  old,  you  know,  dear,  and  that 
was  first  love  !  Think,  if  you  can,  what  it  meant  to 
me?  I  fought  an  honest  fight,  though,  to  be  true 
to  the  other  woman,  until  I  began  to  dream,  to  hope 
that  you  had  got  to  care  a  bit,  too,  perhaps;  then  I 
went  to  pieces ! 

" '  Why  did  n't  I  tell  you  '  ?  A  —  h,  why  !  "  Grae 
ham  laughed  again,  a  bitter  note  of  mockery,  as  he 
passed  his  own  motives  in  review.  "  Why  did  n't 
Ajax  cast  off  that  lariat  the  gods  were  throttling 
him  with  ?  Why  did  n't  the  poor  devil  with  cotton 
-+  260  H- 


"INFINITE    PASSION' 

margins  devouring-  him  like  a  pack  of  wolves  pull 
out  in  time  ? 

"Jane,  I  saw  the  pearls  I  had  bought,  and  ad 
dressed  to  Mary  Meadows  with  my  own  hands,  upon 
your  throat,  and  I  knew  besides  that  Carlysle's  sec 
retary  had  receipted  for  them.  The  ring,  the  mate  to 
this  one,"  -  he  drew  the  other  ring  from  his  pocket, 
and  displayed  it  upon  his  palm, — "upon  your  hand. 
I  had  seen  you  mail  a  letter  to  James  Goodloe,  and 
—  confirmation  sure  as  Holy  Writ ! — you  opened 
the  letter  I  had  written  Mary  Meadows  asking  her 
to  be  my  wife,  before  my  eyes.  I  saw  Carlysle  hand 
it  you,  saw  you  take  it  as  a  matter  of  course  — 
Dearest !  your  hand  in  mine  again  ?  What,  both  ? 
How  cold  they  are  !  You  see,  Jane,  how  I  was  the 
devil's  own  fool  from  that  minute,  roped  and  thrown ! 
You  see,  dear?  " 

"  I  am  beginning  to  see.  Oh,  my  dear,  my 
dear !  " 

She  clung  a  moment  longer  to  him  and  then  took 
her  hands  away,  to  press  them  upon  her  eyes,  as 
though  to  shut  in  something  that  she  needs  must 
face  alone. 

"  Little  things  are  coming  back  to  me.  I  remem 
ber  now  you  kissed  the  ring  that  day,  poor  Callie's 
ring,"  —a  quiver  passed  over  her,  constricting  her 
throat.  "Why  did  you?"  she  whispered  unsteadily. 
"  Was  it  because  you  thought  —  fancied  " 

"  I    thought    you    were    Mary    Meadows,  —  the 
-i-  261  •*- 


THE    WORLD'S    WARRANT 

woman  I  loved,  and  the  woman  to  whom  I  was  en 
gaged  to  be  married,"  said  he  gravel)7. 

Miss  Caruth  had  always  a  clear  pallor,  that  did  not 
readily  betray  her  by  swift  alternations ;  deep  feel 
ing  stilled  her,  as  intense  motion  takes  on  the  form 
of  rest ;  but  as  Graeham  spoke,  she  grew  slowly 
white  and  the  lines  of  her  face  sharpened,  until 
she  seemed  a  head  carved  from  some  fine-grained 
stone.  Her  eyes  were  hard,  as  they  turned  shrink- 
ingly  to  the  letter  in  Graeham's  hand  ;  its  contents 
seemed  actually  visible  to  her  in  some  form  of  pol 
lution. 

"  And  you  still  thought  I  was  that  woman  after 
—  that?" 

Graeham  did  not  speak,  but  his  eyes  met  Jane's 
firmly,  in  dumb,  dogged  remorse.  He  raised  his  hand 
to  his  collar  as  though  he  needed  breath,  and  his 
face,  set  in  lines  of  stern  endurance,  showed  the  veins 
in  knotted  cords  upon  his  brow.  He  wore  the  look 
that  men  wear  who  are  on  trial  for  their  lives,  as 
they  sit,  deprived  by  the  abstract  power  of  the  law 
of  their  human  right  to  draw  the  fist  back  to  the 
shoulder  and  strike,  feeling  the  coil  of  damning 
evidence  spun  smoothly  by  lying  lips  close  upon 
them. 

He  did  not  attempt  to  explain,  to  palliate ;  not 

yet.    When  souls  meet  in  the  trenches  to  fight  it  out, 

men  do  not  talk.    Nor  did  Graeham ;  he  fought  the 

next  ten  seconds  of  mortal  strife  in  silence,  with 

-t-  262  H- 


"INFINITE    PASSION" 

Jane's  hands  in  his,  her  soul  face  to  face  with  his, 
across  the  barriers  of  his  confession.  The  fight  was 
Graeham's,  in  so  far,  at  least,  as  to  vanquish  silence. 
Miss  Caruth  spoke  gently,  after  a  second  longer  of 
struggle. 

"  Let  us  go  back  together,  dear,  and  see,"  —  she 
paused  to  steady  her  voice,  —  "and  see  what  can  be 
done,"  she  finished  simply.  "  I  must  know,  know 
before  I-  That  last  letter?  After  you  thought 
you  knew  that  I  was  Mary  Meadows,  why  did  you 
write  it?" 

"  To  give  you  an  opening  to  retire  from  the  affair 
with  all  dignity  and  grace.  I  knew  — -  God,  I  thought 
I  knew! — that  you  would  graciously  refuse  Good- 
loe's  proposal ;  I  could  have  drafted  the  letter,  I 
was  so  sure.  I  meant  that  that  should  end  it.  I  never 
intended  that  you  should  know  of  my  part  in  it,  or 
that  I  knew  of  your  own.  Then  came  this  thunder 
bolt  from  Carlysle !  The  most  damnable  lie  a  man 
ever  penned  !  —  ( a  dearly  loved  young  sister  ! '  — 
( a  member  of  my  own  household  ! '  He  calls  this 
woman  that !  I  was  in  hell  —  tortured,  when  I  read 
that.  Those  nights  at  sea—  Ah,  if  you  could  know, 
June,  what  a  thing  my  soul  was  in  those  first  days, 
you  would  forgive  me  !  " 

He  was  upon  his  knees  again  at  her  feet,  and  she 
pressed  her  two  hands  upon  his  head,  hiding  his  face 
from  her,  as  she  hung  over  him  in  an  agony  of  re 
nunciation  too  deep  for  words  or  tears. 
-H  263  +- 


THE    WORLD'S    WARRANT 

"  You  went  abroad  to  escape  this  marriage,  that 
you  fancied  had  been  arranged  for  you." 

Graeham  lifted  his  head  sharply,  but  she  would 
not  let  him  speak. 

"  No,  Camp;  listen,  dear  !  I  must  know  !  You  see 
that  I  must?" 

"  Then,  yes  !  " 

"  And  what  brought  you  back?" 

"  Need  you  ask  that,  Jane  ?  " 

"  I  need  to  know  all  that  was  in  your  mind  and 
heart." 

"  Do  not  ask  me  to  turn  over  the  rank  turmoil  of 
my  mind  before  your  eyes,  Janet.  Do  not  ask  me  ! 
Ask  me,  if  you  will,  to  empty  my  heart ;  that  at 
least  is  clean,  for  it  has  never  left  your  keeping.  I 
left  it  here,"  —  he  raised  the  palms  of  her  hands 
and  kissed  them,  — "  and  I  found  it  here  again. 
But  my  mind,  poisoned  by  the  filterings  of-  Do 
not  ask  it." 

"  Then  answer  me  from  your  honor,  Camp;  that 
is  clean,  too." 

"  Ask  me  "  - 

"  What  brought  you  back  to  Morganton  ?  Was 
it  love  for  —  for  me,  for  Jane  Caruth,  or  your  pledge 
to  Mary  Meadows  ?  " 

"  You  forget  that  I  thought  you  were  the  same?  " 

"  Don't !    Don't  equivocate  !  " 

For  a  moment  Graeham  wavered ;  then,  "  My 
pledge  to  Mary  Meadows,"  he  said  hoarsely. 

-H.  264  ^- 


"INFINITE    PASSION" 

He  took  her  clasped  hands  and  softened  their  rigid 
hold  in  his  own,  and  for  a  space  they  sat  thus,  with 
out  speaking.  Graeham  went  on  after  a  bit :  - 

"The  shock  of  this  thing  loosened  my  grip  on 
everything ;  but  nothing  short  of  death  can  beat 
the  plain  manhood  out  of  a  man,  you  know,  dear. 
I  loathed  my  life;  but  sheer,  brute  instinct  made  me 
reach  for  the  only  solid  thing  in  sight,  —  that  some 
thing  in  a  man  that  makes  him  stand  by  his  pledged 
word,  through  thick  and  thin.  We  were  five  days 
out  when  I  got  myself  together,  and  knew  what  I 
had  to  do." 

"  Yes,"  said  Miss  Caruth  steadily;  "  it  is  the  only 
thing  to  do." 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  "  cried  he  quickly. 

Miss  Caruth  met  his  eyes,  hardened  with  premoni 
tory  anger,  with  gentle  steadiness. 

•'<  Only  Avhat  you  have  just  said,  that  you  knew 
you  must  redeem  your  pledge  to  this  girl,  —  to  Mary 
Meadows,  or  lola  Jourdan,  as  we  know  her  now." 

The  vigorous  browns  and  tans  of  Graeham's  col 
oring  were  hard  to  displace  ordinarily,  but  he  showed 
a  trace  of  pallor  as  he  braced  himself  to  meet  the 
courage  in  Jane's  eyes. 

"  I  knew  this  was  coming.  I  caught  the  trend  of 
your  thought  some  time  ago,  and  I  knew  you  'd  take 
this  stand.  Souls  travel  in  orbits  the  same  as  plan 
ets,  I  suppose,  and  you  must  follow  yours.  There 's 
no  need  to  thrash  this  out  again.  Logically,  if  you 
— t-  265  -i— 


THE    WORLD'S    WARRANT 

like,  I  came  back  here  to  marry  lola  Jourdan ;  and 
honorably  I  am  bound  to  do  so.  But  logic  and 
honor —  or  life  and  death,  heaven  and  hell,  for  the 
matter  of  that  —  weigh  like  a  pinch  of  thistledown 
against  your  happiness,  Jane." 

"  Yet  honor  had  weight  to  bring  you  back  across 
the  world,  to  redeem  your  pledge  to  a  woman  you 
did  not  love." 

"  Jane,  is  this  generous  ?    Is  it  just  ?  " 

"  Was  it  just  to  me  to  have  married  me  with  that  — 
horror  in  your  mind  ?    No,  no  !    You  must  hear  me, 
Camp.    Almost,"     -  with  sudden  yearning  she  drew 
Graeham's  hand  to  her  breast,  and  held  it  there  while 
she  went  on,  —  "  almost  it  is  worth  this  to  knoio  you 
love  me.    Those  weeks  when  you  were  away,  and  — 
and  even  yesterday,  to-day — ah!    To  have  this  hour 
of  perfect  love  as  a  memory,  in  the  empty  years  to 
come  !  " 

"  Curse  memory !  We  will  have  each  other !  I 
will  not  give  you  up,  Janet.  Don't  speak  to  me  of 
honor !  Honor  is  a  conception  of  sane  minds ;  this 
is  hysteria.  Be  brave,  and  put  these  fancies  from 
you.  We  are  a  man  and  woman  living  life ;  not  a 
couple  of  puppets  on  the  stage,  hounded  by  a  fate 
set  on  them  by  some  playwright's  imagination.  This 
is  a  man's  work;  leave  it  to  me,  will  you  not?  I  will 
settle  with  this  woman." 

"  I  cannot  take  lola  Jourdan's  lover  —  knowing 
what  I  know." 

-H.  266  H- 


"INFINITE    PASSION" 

"  I  was  never  her  lover  for  an  instant  in  my  life, 
nor  any  one's  but  yours,  —  body  and  soul,  heart  and 
conscience." 

"  No  ;  your  conscience  is  your  own,  as  mine  is  my 
own,  and  it  will  not  let  me  rob  this  girl  of  all  that 
is  left  to  her.  She  has  given  all  for  love,  —  fortune, 
name,  all!  And  then  shall  I  from  my  safe  place 
calmly  reach  forth  my  hand,  and  snatch  the  fruits 
of  her  sacrifice  from  her?  I  could  not,  and  you 
could  not  let  me." 

"  Jane,  darling,  this  is  not  stuff  for  your  con 
science  to  concern  itself  with.  Don't  erect  the  gran 
ite  wall  of  an  inner  imperative  between  us !  Try 
to  see  this  from  my  point  of  view,  —  the  point  of 
view  that  the  world  would  take.  If  you  drew  a  hun 
dred  men  from  every  position  or  profession, — let 
them  be  what  they  may,  —  and  put  this  situation  to 
them,  I  dare  swear  ninety-nine  out  of  the  hundred 
would  do  as  I  intend  doing.  This  is  a  perfectly  com 
monplace  thing,  except  where  it  involves  you.  It 
is  a  bit  of  ugly,  every-day  life  —  rankly  dramatic, 
I  grant  you,  but  having  to  do  with  a  phase  of  life 
that  cannot,  shall  not,  enter  your  life.  You  cannot 
judge  it  so  sanely  as  I ;  therefore  let  me  settle  it.  I 
will  make  good  lola  Jourdan's  fortune  to  her,  dollar 
for  dollar." 

"  You  do  not  know  her  in  the  least,  if  you  think 
she  is  the  sort  of  woman  to  be  bought  off,  if  you 
mean  that.  Sometimes  I  think  none  of  us  have  ever 
-+  267  •*- 


THE    WORLD'S    WARRANT 

known  her,  or  done  her  justice.  We  assumed  that 
she  lacked  a  soul,  as  we  might  have  assumed  that 
she  lacked  musical  ability  because  she  had  not  been 
taught  to  perform  upon  some  instrument,  and  we 
arranged  her  future  as  lightly  —  callously,  as  we 
might  have  bought  her  a  gown  ;  we  fitted  it  to 
her,  influenced  her  to  accept  it,  thrust  it  on  her.  I, 
/  was  the  chief  one  in  this  ;  I  made  myself  respon 
sible  for  her  future  —  and  now  to  rob  her  of  the 
future  I  gave  her?  " 

Graeham  stared  at  the  floor,  full  of  troubled 
thought. 

"  Jane,"  he  said  at  last  firmly,  as  one  who  speaks 
from  knowledge  deliberately  withheld,  "  this  is  senti 
ment  on  your  part.  I  do  know  this  girl  better  than 
you  do.  Can  you  not  trust  me  to  do  the  right  thing 
by  her?" 

"Trust  you?  Why  should  I  not?  You  have 
already  fought  the  fight  that  brought  you  back  to 
her.  All  that  is  left  is  my  part.  I  have  only  to  leave 
you  free  to  go  the  way  your  honor  bade  you  go 
those  nights  at  sea,  and  keep  the  oath  that  I  gave 
her." 

"What  oath?  Let  me  know  all  there  is  to 
know." 

"  You  remember  the  night   of  the  ball  ?   James 

Goodloe's  letter  had  come  that  day,  and  Jim   was 

determined  that  he  should  not  be  deceived.    He  and 

lola  had  a  fearful  hour  together,  but  she  finally  con- 

-i-  268  H- 


"INFINITE    PASSION" 

sented  that  he  should  write.  Then  she  came  on  to  my 
room,  frantic  with  unhappiness,  poor  child, — poor 
wretched  girl !  She  told  me  then,  confessed,  that  she 
loved  this  man  that  we  had  '  arranged  '  for  her  to 
marry,  that  her  only  wish  was  to  be  his  wife.  And 
then  she  made  me  swear" —  Miss  Caruth  broke  off 
and  mused  a  moment  in  deep  thought.  "  How  strange 
it  seems  now  !  but  she  made  me  swear  never  to  come 
between  James  Goodloe  and  herself." 

"  Strange,"  muttered  Graeham. 

"  Like  a  fate  indeed,  is  n't  it  ?  And  I  —  I  told  her 
never  to  let  anything  come  between  them ;  to  hold 
to  James  Goodloe,  as  she  would  to  a  hand  reached 
downward  to  her  from  the  skies ;  and  then  I  swore, 
swore  never  to  come  between  them." 

"  The  trap  has  closed  upon  us  both  ! "  said  Grae 
ham  hoarsely.  He  took  her  in  his  arms  and  held 
her,  without  speaking,  close  to  him  for  a  space. 
"And  for  the  rest  of  our  lives,  Jane?"  he  said  at 
last  fiercely.  "  Do  you  mean  for  me  to  try  to  live 
mine  without  you?  " 

"No,"  said  she  quietly,  "no." 

"What  do  you  mean?"  asked  Graeham,  in  a  deep 
inward  voice. 

"  Did  you  not  tell  me  that  you  had  always  loved 
me,  in  your  soul  ?  " 

"  Ah  !  But,  Jane,  Jane,  I  had  not  known  the 
woman  then ;  had  not  held  you  in  my  arms.  Mem 
ory  will  be  hell  after  this." 

-H  269  -K. 


THE    WORLD'S    WARRANT 

"  No,  no ;  for  we  shall  belong  to  each  other 
still.  I  shall  never  give  up  the  part  of  you  that  is 
mine." 

"  I  'm  a  man,  Jane  ;  and  love  's  so  different  with 
men." 

She  clung  closer  to  him  in  a  momentary  struggle, 
hidden  from  him,  with  her  face  pressed  into  his 
breast.  Graeham  went  on  presently,  in  a  hard,  un 
steady  voice  :  - 

"  You  say  you  will  never  give  me  up  :  but  as  the 
years  go  on,  —  a  beautiful  woman  like  you,  and  of 
the  world,  —  the  world  will  claim  you ;  others  get  in 
between,  thrust  me  back  —  some  other  man,  per 
haps." 

"No,"  said  Jane  simply;  and  for  a  moment  added 
nothing  to  the  word's  quiet  assurance.  "  Never  let 
such  thoughts  come  to  you.  Promise  to  keep  the 
memory  of  me  just  as  I  am  now,  here  upon  your 
breast ;  never  forget  that  I  am  yours,  in  all  the  years 
that  will  come  to  us,  as  I  am  at  this  moment.  Never 
forget  it,  and  never  let  yourself  dream  that  a  day 
will  ever  come  when  it  could  be  otherwise." 

"  And  you  '11  see  me  sometimes  ?  " 

He  spoke  thickly,  his  cheek  on  hers  wet  with  her 
tears. 

"Why  not?  Not  just  yet,  perhaps,  but  —  after. 

We  are  not  children.     No  one  knows  —  not  even 

Kate  or  Mr.  Carlysle  —  what  we  are  to  each  other. 

Let  us  keep  it  close  in  our  two  hearts,  until  —   No- 

-+  270  H- 


thing  can  really  part  us,  while  we  know  that  we 
belong  to  each  other.  This  is  but  a  little  parting, 
dear.  Tell  me  good-by,  my  own." 

"  It  is  the  parting  of  soul  and  body,  Jane.    I  can 
not,  cannot  let  you  go  !  " 


THE    WORLD'S    WARRANT 


CHAPTER  XV 

"  Come  back  with  me  to  the  first  of  all ; 
Let  us  lean  and  love  it  over  again 
And  gather  what  we  let  fall " 

SPRING — the  exquisite,  impetuous  spring,  that  comes 
"  before  the  swallow  dares  "  to  Alabama,  had  set  the 
"  jeweled  prints  of  her  feet  "  in  acres  of  lush  vegeta 
tion  along  the  warm,  fecund  valley  of  the  Tennessee. 
The  warm  wind  was  buoyant  with  moisture  and  pun 
gent  with  sap,  springing  in  endless  acres  of  young 
corn  and  cotton,  and  pricked  the  nostrils  sharply 
with  the  balsamic  odor  of  dog-fennel,  —  that  lovely 
hated  pariah  of  the  Southern  fields,  —  that  had  laid 
a  mantle  of  ermine  and  gold  upon  the  denuded  fields 
about  Morganton,  covering  their  gaping  wounds  and 
scars  with  a  cloak  of  despised  charity. 

The  river,  full  to  its  banks,  ran  whisperingly 
through  a  deep,  green  velvet  sheath  of  new  cane ; 
and  in  the  hot,  still  air  of  mid-noon,  the  muffled  roar 
of  Chinquepin,  like  a  base  organ  note  drawn  out  to 
infinity,  was  audible  for  miles.  The  planters  along 
the  river  had  been  used  to  say  that  as  long  as  you 
could  hear  Chinquepin,  you  were  on  Isom  Jourdan's 
land ;  and  on  the  overgrown  lawns  at  McGuion 
House,  its  voice  dominated  the  sunny  stillness,  ab- 
-+  272  H- 


LOVE    IT    OVER    AGAIN 

sorbing  the  minor  sounds  of  the  summer  day  in  a 
great  soft  blanket  of  sound. 

Where  the  lawn  overhung  the  river  amid  a  jungle 
of  blooming  shrubs,  a  magnolia  grew  close  to  the 
water ;  and  tied  in  its  shade,  a  clumsy  punt  rocked 
upon  the  lazy  current,  like  a  great  unwieldy  cradle. 
It  had  rocked  one  of  its  passengers  to  sleep  as  it 
happened,  and  the  other  sat  as  still  as  though  she 
too  slept,  with  hands  clasped  about  her  knees,  and 
dreaming  eyes  upon  the  shining  stretches  of  the  river, 
lola  was  clad  in  the  old  blue  cotton-checks,  turned  in 
at  the  throat ;  and  her  hair,  parted  on  her  brow,  fell 
in  long  rippling  braids,  as  red  as  ruddy  sunshine, 
across  her  shoulders.  She  held  a  piece  of  sewing 
in  her  idle  hands ;  and  upon  a  man's  rough  brown 
jeans  coat  in  the  bottom  of  the  boat  a  tiny  tot,  with 
a  mop  of  gold  hair,  lay  fast  asleep,  its  sturdy,  rosy 
limbs  bare  to  the  wind,  that  was  tanning  the  little 
cheeks  a  deeper  rose.  The  girl's  eyes  turned  to  him 
from  time  to  time  in  brooding  glances,  and  once 
she  stooped  and  kissed  one  dimpled  foot  kicked  out 
toward  her,  with  a  long  kiss,  yearning  and  posses 
sive,  as  only  a  mother's  kiss  can  be. 

From  where  she  sat  she  had  a  long  view  of  the 
river  toward  Morganton,  across  a  point  of  the  lawn 
where  the  ruins  of  an  old  summer-house  stood  ; 
and  as  she  raised  her  eyes  from  her  sewing,  a  speck 
upon  the  full,  shining  tide  of  the  river  riveted  her 
gaze.  That  sharp  black  dot  was  a  boat ;  and  the 
-»-  273  -K- 


THE    WORLD'S    WARRANT 

two  thin  dashes  of  black,  oars ;  and  the  speck  of 
dazzling  white  must  be  the  rower,  she  knew.  She 
watched  it  idly  as  it  drew  nearer,  cutting  a  broad 
furrow  like  a  silver  spearhead  in  the  water,  and 
something  in  the  way  the  man  handled  the  oars 
fastened  her  mind  upon  it :  the  planters  and  the 
river-men  about  the  cotton  landings  had  not  that 
long  reach  forward,  that  easy  swing  to  the  oars ; 
and  as  the  boat  stood  out  clearly  in  the  light,  she 
saw  that  the  man  at  the  oars  wore  flannels.  She 
had  a  quick  thought  of  Clark.  But  no;  Clark  was 
slenderer  than  this  man,  and  swayed  to  his  stroke : 
this  man  sat  like  a  rock ;  and  something  in  the  bend 
of  his  broad  back,  as  he  leaned  against  the  current, 
held  her  eyes  in  a  fascinated  gaze. 

The  color  had  fled  from  her  cheeks  and  her  deli 
cate  nostrils  expanded,  straining  for  breath  as  she 
leaned  forward,  intent  upon  the  man  in  the  boat. 
Only  for  a  moment  longer  she  hung  in  doubt ;  and 
as  the  rower  raised  his  face,  with  a  low  cry  of  unbe 
lieving  joy  she  sank  upon  her  knees  in  the  bottom 
of  the  punt,  holding  the  shrubberies  aside  to  watch 
him,  herself  unseen,  hanging  upon  his  unconscious 
face  in  an  agony  of  doubt  and  hope.  Where  could 
he  be  going  ?  The  landing  at  McGuion  House  lay 
past  her  up  the  river,  and  Graeham's  glance  ahead 
suggested  that  as  his  destination.  The  thought  of 
Chinquepin  sprang  to  her  mind.  Could  it  be  business 
with  her  uncle,  Carter  Cartright,  that  had  brought 
-t-  274  H- 


LOVE    IT    OVER    AGAIN 

him?  But  twin  with  the  thought  was  born  the  cer 
tainty  that  it  was  not  business  that  had  brought 
him  —  not  with  Carter  Cartright,  at  any  rate.  She 
knelt  motionless  in  the  boat,  her  eyes  upon  the  skiff 
that  was  drawing  nearer  with  each  powerfid  swing 
of  the  oars,  struggling  with  an  impulse  of  flight,  of 
concealment,  of  escape,  that  fought  with  an  unrea 
soning  hope,  and  kept  her  quivering  in  the  balance, 
without  power  to  move  or  even  think  coherently. 

The  point  of  the  lawn  was  yet  between  the  two 
boats,  when  a  movement  of  the  child  at  her  feet 
drew  her  eyes  downward  to  it  in  a  sudden  panic. 
The  child !  She  had  forgotten  it !  Unreasoning 
hope  —  the  mad  pilot  that  has  wrecked  so  many 
women's  hearts  —  urged  her  to  action.  She  snatched 
the  child  in  her  arms,  and  made  one  long  light  step 
from  the  boat  to  the  shore.  It  was  but  a  step  to 
the  rained  summer-house,  where  she  could  hide  him 
until  -  Panting  under  the  weight  of  the  boy,  she 
hurried  forward,  bending  low  in  the  shrubberies.  The 
baby  still  slept,  but  in  his  sleep,  feeling  her  arms 
about  him,  he  nestled  closer;  a  smile  parted  his  lips, 
a  sleepy  murmur  came  from  them,  his  chubby  arms 
tightened  about  Tola's  neck,  and  he  pressed  his  tousled 
head  into  her  bosom  with  helpless,  nuzzling  motions. 
A  tremor  ran  through  her  limbs  ;  all  at  once  she 
was  too  wreak  to  run,  and  stood  straining  the  baby's 
form  to  her  breast,  raining  kisses  upon  the  little 
upturned  face,  even  as  her  frightened  eyes  peered 
-H  275  +- 


THE    WORLD'S    WARRANT 

through  the  branches  to  watch  the  progress  of  Grae- 
ham's  boat  upon  the  stream  without.  Only  the  shrub 
beries  were  between  them  now,  and  she  saw  Grae- 
ham's  face  plainly.  He  was  darker,  sterner,  older  than 
when  she  had  seen  him  last;  and  there  was  something 
in  the  controlled  quiet  of  his  face  that  steadied  her, 
as  though  a  strong  cold  hand  had  been  laid  upon 
her  shoulder.  She  stood  where  she  had  paused, 
thinking  more  clearly ;  her  eyes  on  Graeham,  her 
trembling  arms  gathering  the  child  closer  and  closer 
yet  to  her  bosom. 

She  had  remained  at  the  hotel  a  couple  of  mis 
erable,  restless  weeks  after  Graeham's  unexplained 
departure,  to  which  she  alone  of  all  who  conjectured 
as  to  his  mysterious  business  abroad,  held  the  key ; 
and  had  then  returned  quietly  in  the  night  to  her 
old  home,  where  old  Carter  Cartright  and  his  son, 
who  was  heir  to  the  land,  had  taken  up  a  temporary 
abode,  bringing  the  child  with  her.  Carter  Cartright 
had  asked  her  no  questions  ;  he  had  made  her  wel 
come  ;  and  beyond  the  bare  fact  quietly  made  known 
to  the  few  it  concerned,  that  his  niece  had  returned 
and  refused  to  accept  the  conditions  of  her  father's 
will,  offered  no  explanation,  and  none  had  dared  ask 
it  at  his  hands.  lola  had,  seemingly,  pieced  the 
broken  thread  of  her  old  life  to  the  new,  keeping 
her  uncle's  house  as  she  had  kept  her  father's,  ex 
cept  that  it  was  infinitely  more  a  home  than  it  had 
been  in  those  days.  She  had  spent  her  time,  for  the 
-»•  276  4- 


LOVE    IT    OVER    AGAIN 

most  part,  in  the  old  garden  with  her  boy,  whom  the 
two  men  had  taken  at  once  into  the  very  cores  of  their 
rather  sunless  hearts.  So  the  weeks  had  slipped  past, 
bringing  her  in  all  but  one  scrap  of  news  from  the 
town  and  the  people  among  whom  she  had  so  lately 
made  her  home,  —  that  the  Carlysles  with  Miss  Caruth 
had  gone  abroad  for  the  summer,  thus  snapping  the 
last  thread  that  had  connected  her  with  Gallic  Larkin 
or  the  past.  Whether  the  identity  of  lola  Jourdan 
with  Gallic  Larkin  was  known  to  others,  or  whether 
Carlysle  had  kept  faith  with  her,  she  had  no  means  of 
knowing :  if  her  uncle  knew  he  made  no  sign,  and 
equally  she  was  in  ignorance  of  how  much  or  how 
little  Graeham  might  know ;  though  with  instant 
intuition  she  had  divined  the  success  of  her  reck 
less  plan  to  separate  him  and  Miss  Caruth,  first  by 
Miss  Caruth's  trip  abroad,  and  now  by  Graeham's 
presence. 

A  wave  of  triumphant  joy  surged  through  her ; 
all  the  eager  desires  and  longings,  that  the  weeks  of 
dull  monotony  on  the  farm  had  lethargized,  waked 
in  a  pang  of  ecstasy,  as  the  flashlight  of  hope  flared 
across  her  mind.  Life  at  Graeham's  side  —  ah,  what 
did  it  not  promise  of  rapture  !  Her  heart  swelled  to 
bursting,  with  the  joy  of  the  unattainable  attained ; 
hope  deferred  —  sickened  with  longing,  wasting  with 
despair  —  sprang  to  new  life,  resurrected  by  the  mir 
acle  of  his  presence. 

She  measured  with  a  lightning  glance  the  distance 
-i-  277  *- 


THE    WORLD'S    WARRANT 

to  the  summer-house  and  back.  There  was  time, 
just  time  and  no  more,  before  he  would  round  the 
point  and  her  boat  be  in  view ;  she  took  one  step  in 
the  direction  of  the  ruined  arbor,  where  she  meant 
to  hide  the  boy  and  return  to  intercept  Graeham, 
with  every  furtive  instinct  in  her  nature  urging  her 
on.  But  the  sturdy,  two-year-old  boy  was  heavy :  she 
paused  to  shift  his  weight,  and  as  she  did  so  he 
waked,  wearing  the  grieved  lip  he  always  wore  at 
waking;  but  his  eyes,  still  dim  and  clouded  with  sleep, 
fell  on  his  mother's  face ;  they  cleared,  smiled ;  he 
dug  his  hands  into  her  neck  in  a  throttling  hug,  as 
he  clung  to  her  with  cooing  almost  articulate  words 
of  baby-love.  The  girl  wavered  ;  she  cast  a  hurried 
glance  to  the  river.  Graeham  had  thrust  his  hat  back 
as  he  rested  a  moment  on  his  oars,  and  his  face  was 
in  full  view.  The  manliness  that  had  so  charmed  her, 
in  his  level  glance,  his  frowning  brow,  the  candid 
sweetness  of  his  mouth,  were  there  the  same ;  she 
admired  him,  coveted  his  strength,  his  warmth  of 
kindliness,  with  the  same  eager  longing  ;  the  charm 
that  had  fixed  her  held  her  still.  But  the  face 
upon  her  bosom  bound  her  with  a  spell  that  Grae- 
ham's  could  not  break!  Life  beckoned  from  the 
river ;  but  life  was  here,  in  its  fulfillment,  upon  her 
breast. 

She  turned  deliberately  and  walked  back  to  the 
boat,  laid  the  child  down  upon  its  bed,  and  had  seated 
herself   quietly  at  her  sewing  as    Graeham's  boat 
-+  278  •»- 


LOVE    IT    OVER    AGAIN 

rounded  the  point.  He  saw  her  instantly,  and  in  a 
couple  of  strokes  brought  his  boat  alongside,  and 
secured  it  to  an  overhanging  bough. 

"  Well,"  he  said  calmly,  busied  with  the  rope, 
"  I  'm  here  at  last,  Mary.  Have  you  nothing  to  say 
to  me,  after  I  've  come  across  half  the  continent  to 
fetch  you?" 

There  was  a  hard  composure  in  his  manner  not 
good  to  hear,  and  the  girl  had  an  instant  sensation 
of  having  been  roughly  thrust  off.  She  was  trem 
bling  so  that  she  could  scarcely  achieve  the  sentence 
as  she  replied,  and  her  face  was  as  white  as  the  alder 
blooms  above  her  head. 

"  'F  you'll  tell  me  what  to  say,"  she  faltered,  with 
radiant  eyes  of  troubled  joy. 

"  Ah,  I  cannot  quite  do  that,  my  dear,"  said  he,  in 
a  tone  kindly  over  an  undertone  of  coldness.  "But 
I  have  come  two  thousand  miles  to  hear  what  you 
have  to  say  to  me,  and  I  have  much  to  say  to  you, 
much  on  my  own  account  and  much  on  yours ;  and 
it  may  be  that  when  I  have  done,  you  will  know  what 
to  say  to  me.  I  hope  so." 

An  indescribable  change  had  come  to  Graeham. 

O 

He  had  always  a  peculiarly  deep,  persistent  vitality, 
that  had  pervaded  his  personality  with  the  glow  of  a 
mellow  kindliness.  The  force  within  him  did  not  show 
itself  in  vivacity  of  glance  or  radiance  of  smile;  it 
radiated  from  him  in  obscure  waves  of  impersonal 
kindliness,  that  warmed  the  hearts  of  those  with 
-»•  279  ^- 


THE    WORLD'S    WARRANT 

whom  lie  came  in  contact ;  and  though  lola  could 
not  have  defined  the  lack  in  him,  she  felt  it.  Grae- 
ham  had  withdrawn  into  himself,  carrying  the  cor 
dial  that  had  been  wont  to  vivify  life  for  those  about 
him  with  him,  leaving  the  exterior  chill.  He  sat 
looking  down  the  river  for  a  minute,  with  his  eyes 
blank  with  thought. 

"  I  don't  know,"  he  resumed,  with  a  touch  of  his 
old-time  blimtness,  "  that  so  much  needs  to  be  said 
between  us,  after  all.  I  have  the  idea  that  a  good 
deal  of  it  is  plain  already,  eh  ?  No  need  to  go  back 
of  Carlysle's  letter,  is  there?  I  got  it,  as  you  know ; 
and,  as  you  also  know,  I  acted  like  a  cur.  I  'm  here, 
Mary,  to  ask  if  you  can  forgive  me,  and  to  say  I  'm 
ready  to  carry  out  my  contract  that  I  funked  then, 
as  nearly  as  we  can  on  the  original  basis.  When 
we  began  this  thing,  you  needed  a  husband  to  stand 
between  you  and  the  world  that  had  used  you  ill, 
and  threatened  to  use  you  worse,  and  I  wanted  — 
no  matter  what.  I  'm  here,"  he  went  on,  after  a 
second  of  struggle  that  had  hardened  his  eyes  and 
the  lines  about  his  mouth,  "  to  say  I  '11  be  that  hus 
band,  —  put  my  shoulder  between  the  world  and 
you  ;  and  I  '11  take  this  mite  here  "  — he  reached 
a  long  arm  for  the  child,  who  was  kneeling  in  the 
punt,  making  little  elastic,  enticing  motions  toward 
Graeham,  with  radiant,  friendly  eyes.  Graeham  set 
him  on  his  knee,  looking  with  grave  gentleness  into 
his  friendly  little  face,  that  smiled  back  at  him  with 
-H-  280  -)- 


LOVE    IT    OVER    AGAIN 

a  brave  gleam  of  milk  teeth  as  he  took  his  dimpled 
fist  into  his  palm. 

"  Friends  from  this  hour,  eh  ?  So  that 's  settled." 
Still  holding  the  child's  hand,  he  went  on  speaking 
to  lola :  - 

"  I  '11  make  this  little  lad  my  own,  if  you  are  will 
ing,  and  he  shall  never  know  the  difference.  I  will 
settle  upon  him  the  money  for  the  falls,  that  you 
sacrificed  to  keep  this  contract  with  me." 

Tola  did  not  speak ;  it  is  doubtful  if  she  heard 
Graeham's  words,  or  gathered  from  them  any  but  a 
blurred  impression  of  their  sense  ;  her  mind  was  filled 
with  a  passion  of  regret  and  longing.  She  had  a 
sense  upon  her  of  desperate  mistake,  confusion,  un 
reality.  Had  they  all  been  wrong,  then?  He  had  not 
cared  !  He  had  forgiven  her  sin ;  taken  the  child  to 
his  heart,  proposed  to  give  him  his  name,  to  raise 
him  as  his  own.  If  she  had  but  trusted  him  !  Sitting 
silent  in  her  place,  watching  Graeham  with  the  child 
upon  his  knee,  she  went  back  over  her  course  step 
by  step,  —  to  the  torn  envelope  upon  his  floor,  that 
had  given  her  opportunity  into  her  hands.  Ah, 
if  she  had  but  told  him  then  !  Nothing  back  of 
Carlvsle's  letter,  he  had  said ;  and  nothing  since  it 

^  '  O 

either,  it  seemed  ;  for  his  manner  afforded  her  no 
faintest  clue  to  what  had  passed  in  the  interval  since 
its  receipt. 

He  had  deliberately  wiped  out  the  months  of  their 
joint   residence   at   the  Midland,  leaving  the   slate 
-t-  281  +~ 


THE    WORLD'S    WARRANT 

blank,  save  for  the  terse  conditions  of  their  contract; 
and  his  controlled  quiet  when  he  had  called  her 
Mary  had  warned  her  not  to  revert  to  it,  but  to  ac 
cept  the  cue  of  his  silent  refusal  to  recognize  her  as 
Callie  Larkin  or  lola  Jourdan,  although  his  allusion 
to  the  falls  told  her  he  knew.  It  was  like  Graeham 
to  cut  straight  through  the  tangled  situation  with  a 
stroke ;  accepting  what  was  tenable,  rejecting  and 
ignoring  all  that  could  not  be  adjusted  upon  a  basis 
of  solid  good  sense. 

Something  in  the  restrained  coldness  of  his  glance 
had  pierced  her  with  a  consciousness  of  her  treachery 
to  Miss  Caruth.  But  how  could  it  be  possible  that 
he  knew  ?  Yet  the  thought  gave  her  pause.  Dared 
she  hold  him  to  his  word,  knowing  ?  accept  his  sacri 
fice,  he  knowing  that  she  knew  it  to  be  such  ?  But 
why  should  she  call  it  sacrifice  ?  He  had  come  to  her 
freely,  —  had  sought  her,  by  his  own  account,  half 
across  the  earth  to  make  her  his  wife.  The  future 
smiled  ;  a  memory  of  her  triumph  at  the  ball  touched 
her  mind ;  who  could  tell  but,  after  all,  he  might 
learn  to  love  her  ? 

Under  the  impetus  of  swift  revulsion  from  despair 
to  hope, her  heart  leaped  toward  Graeham  with  an  im 
pulse  of  passionate  love ;  the  radiant  energy  of  youth 
and  spring  and  love  was  in  the  flushed,  trembling 
smile  she  turned  upon  him,  and  in  the  naive  confes 
sion  of  her  glance. 

"  It  was  n't  no  sacrifice,"  she  murmured,  harking 
-+  282  4- 


LOVE    IT    OVER    AGAIN 

back  to  his  allusion  to  the  money ;  "  I  'd  give  it  er 
million  times  'n'  welcome  fur  —  fur  you  !  " 

A  line  showed  quickly  in  Graeham's  brow;  he  did 
not  glance  at  her  as  he  began  to  speak,  with  a  visible 
effort  and  hard  determination. 

"  There  is  something  else  "  —  But  he  did  not 
add  it;  he  paused  as  though  seeking,  and  not  find 
ing,  words  to  soften  his  meaning.  "I'm  a  blunt 
man,"  he  broke  in  at  last,  "and  what  I  'm  going 
to  say  may  seem  a  bit  rough  —  I  ?d  be  gentle  if 
I  could ;  but  it 's  got  to  be  said.  Don't  make  any 
mistake,  my  girl,  as  to  what  this  is  I  'm  offering 
you,  or  what  I  have  to  offer. 

"  I  do  not  forget  that  I  led  you  into  this,  or  that 
I  voluntarily  assumed  responsibility  for  all  the  con 
sequences.  Well,  I  'm  willing  to  shoulder  them.  I 
lost  you  your  fortune,  and  this  child,"  —  he  laid  his 
open  palm  upon  the  child's  tumbled  curls,  with  a 
gesture  full  of  grave  responsibility,  —  "  his  father  ; 
ami  the  child's  mother  the  protection  of  a  husband's 
name.  I  will  make  all  that  good,  for  I  can.  I  will 
give  you  my  name,  make  you  mistress  of  my  house, 
shield  you  with  a  husband's  care,  protect  you,  cher 
ish  you,  raise  this  little  lad  as  my  own  son  —  but 
that  is  all,  Mary.  Anything  more  is  not  mine  to 
give.  Do  not  think  me  any  more  brutal  than  I  have 
to  be  ;  't  is  better  to  thrash  this  out  to-day,  and 
let  it  rest  afterward.  You  are  a  beautiful  woman, 
'nore  beautiful  even  than  I  had  thought ;  and  women 
-H-  283  •»- 


THE    WORLD'S    WARRANT 

count  on  that  sort  of  thing  to  get  them  what  they 
want.  I  would  have  to  be  duller  than  I  feel  I 
am,  not  to  know  —  suspect "  —  a  deep  flush  rose  to 
Graehaui's  brow,  he  stammered  diffidently,  but  he 
got  himself  in  hand  and  went  firmly  on,  with  a 
frown  of  repugnance  but  unfaltering  determina 
tion —  "that  something  beside  your  promised  word 
to  me  has  held  you  to  your  contract  to  marry  me ; 
and  it  may  be  that  you  count  upon  your  beauty, 
what  many  men  would  call  your  fascination,  in  the 
daily  contact  of  a  life  spent  under  the  same  roof,  to 
turn  me  — -  change  me,  wipe  out  " —  A  hard  tremor 
shook  his  voice  to  silence,  and  under  his  heavy  tan 
his  pallor  was  evident.  After  a  minute  he  resumed : 
"  It  seems  to  me  that  in  fairness  to  you,  to  us 
both,  it  is  best  to  tell  you  that  that  cannot  be.  I 
could  not  love  you,  child,  if  I  would.  Love  has  gone 
from  me.  My  heart,  my  soul,  every  impulse  in  me 
that  would  turn  me  to  the  love  of  a  woman,  be 
long  to  —  another  woman.  Every  atom  in  me  that  is 
not  grossest  clay  is  hers  ;  and  the  clay  would  wake  to 
life  and  fight  to  reach  her,  if  it  were  buried  under  ten 
tons  of  earth  as  dull  as  it !  I  will  always  be  hers ; 
she "  —  Graeham  lifted  his  face,  forgetful  of  the 
woman  who  sat  before  him  in  stony  quiet,  touched 
with  rapture,  his  eyes  veiled  and  dull  with  the  vision 
that  he  saw  within  him  —  "will  always  be  mine! 
The  rest  is  yours,  cleanly  and  honestly,  if  you  care 
to  take  it  up." 

-+  284  •)- 


LOVE    IT    OVER    AGAIN 

The  boom  of  Chinquepin  filled  the  silence  that 
fell  heavily  at  the  end  of  Graeham's  speech.  The 
girl  toyed  with  the  sewing  upon  her  lap,  with  shak 
ing  fingers ;  her  brows  over  her  downcast  eyes  were 
gathered  in  the  frown  of  tragic  pain  that  Graeham 
had  seen  before,  the  night  when  he  had  called  her 
a  red  rose.  He  saw  it  with  the  same  throb  of  pity 
now,  and  bent  quickly  toward  her ;  but  she  raised 
her  hand  with  an  outward  gesture  of  repellent 
scorn. 

"  Forgive  me,  child,"  he  said  huskily.  "  We  may 
have  forty  years  of  life  together.  I  could  not  live  a 
lie  for  forty  years  !  " 

"  You  will  not  need  to,"  she  said  quietly.  "  Do 
you  remember  that  night  of  the  ball,  the  night  you 
called  me  er  red  rose?  You  told  me  then  that  the 
thing  I  lacked,  was  the  on'y  thing  that  counted  with 
you.  Well,  I  say  that  back  to  you,  Mr.  Graeham. 
Th'  on'y  thing  I  'd  take  from  you  is  the  thing 
you  've  given  —  her."  Her  voice  had  gathered  firm 
ness  as  she  went  on,  and  a  smile  steadied  the  trem 
ulous  corners  of  her  mouth,  that  had  lost  their 
Puck-like  curve  and  were  straight  with  earnestness. 
"  What  do  I  want  with  th'  husks  uv  love  you  offer 
me,  when  I  have  th'  sweet  kernel  uv  th'  corn  !  " 
She  held  her  open  arms  to  Graeham,  and  he  placed 
the  child  silently  within  them ;  and  they  remained 
looking  at  each  other  across  his  bright  head,  in 
silence. 

-+  285  H- 


THE    WORLD'S    WARRANT 

"  Th'  sacrifice  —  'f  you  call  it  that  —  was  fur  love, 
Mr.  Graeham.  I  wanted  to  be  your  wife,"  —  she 
looked  him  cleanly  in  the  eyes  as  she  spoke,  with 
upraised  head,  —  "  because  I  wanted  th'  love  I  thought 
you  'd  give  your  wife.  I  was  starving  fur  a  taste  uv 
love,  that  sort  uv  love.  What  is  th'  difference,"  —  a 
deep  flush  rose  in  her  cheeks,  and  her  eyes  steadied  to 
the  cold  fire  of  steel  as  she  went  on,  —  "  between  this 
that  you  offer  me  'n'  —  'n'  " —  She  buried  her  head 
with  a  shudder  of  repugnance  upon  the  child's 
shoulder. 

"  I  have  nothing  else  to  offer,"  said  Graeham 
dully. 

"  Then  go,"  said  she,  in  a  smothered  voice. 

"  Leave  you  now,  you  mean,  and  give  you  a  bit 
longer  to  think  this  over  ?  " 

"No;  no!    Go." 

"  This  must  end  it  all,  Mary.  Is  all  said  that  you 
would  have  said  between  us?" 

"  No ;  there  is  one  thing  more.    That   night  - 
that  same  night  uv  th'  ball,  when  I  —  I" —    Shame 
weighed  her  eyelids  down,  but  she  went  on  deter 
minedly, —  "When  I  put  my  arms  around  your  neck, 
I  — I  knew,  'n'  I  thought  I  had  er  right  to." 

"  That  was  my  fault,"  put  in  Graeham  hastily. 
"Do  not  let  it  distress  you.  What  did  you  know?" 

"  I  knew  that  you  were  James  Goodloe." 

"  You  did !  How  could  you  have  known,  pos 
sibly?" 

-+  286  H- 


LOVE    IT    OVER    AGAIN 

"  I  read  the  letter  that  you  wrote  him ;  it  was  on 
th'  table  open." 

"  You  read  that  letter  ?  Then  you  knew  that  I 
thought "  - 

"  Yes." 

"  And  you  let  Carlysle  write  that  letter,  know- 
ing?" 

"You  had  called  me  er  red  rose  'n'  her  er  star  ! " 
she  said  simply. 

Graeham  sat  leaning  upon  his  oars,  studying  her 
curiously. 

"  Why  does  God  make  such  women  as  you  ?  So 
good,  so  wholesome  to  look  at,  and  so  rotten  within  ! 
He  may  know  why  He  made  you,  and  may  forgive 
you,  because  you  round  out  some  purpose  known  only 
to  Him — but  I  shall  not." 

Another  June  since  Graeham  had  made  his  trip 
down  the  river  had  plumed  the  lilacs  in  the  old 
McGuion  garden  with  heart-shaped  clusters  of  bloom, 
and  set  the  oleander  thickets  blazing  with  rosy  fire, 
that  rivaled  the  fringed  edge  of  day  slipping  away 
behind  the  western  sky.  The  calm  of  the  coming 
night  soothed  the  desolation  of  the  forsaken  place, 
and  Chinquepin's  voice  had  begun  to  take  on  the 
hush  of  the  summer  nights,  when  it  seemed  to  sing 
under  breath,  and  a  thrush  in  the  alder  by  the 
river  sang  a  brief  clear  song,  and  sang  it  over 

again. 

-t-  287  +- 


THE    WORLD'S    WARRANT 

There  were  signs  of  life  about  the  old  place,  and 
even  signs  of  care.  The  great  lawns  had  been  partly 
cleared;  and  though  the  pile  of  debris  still  desolately 
held  its  own,  the  grim  incubus  of  hate  that  once 
had  brooded  there  was  gone ;  driven  hence,  it  may 
be,  by  the  ceaseless  babble  of  Claude's  little  tongue, 
and  the  scamper  of  his  feet  like  a  nimble  rabbit's 
amongr  the  ruins  of  his  ancestral  rooftree. 

o 

A  little  party  was  gathered  on  the  lawn  in  the 
shadow  of  the  lilac  hedge,  where  a  slab  of  marble, 
laid  across  the  pedestal  of  a  fallen  statue,  made  a 
capital  table.  The  guests  were  gathered  about  a 
festal  board,  where  a  banquet  seemed  to  be  in  pro 
gress.  A  man's  handkerchief  spread  upon  the  stone 
served  as  tablecloth,  and  was  graced  at  decorous 
intervals  by  acorn-cups.  A  cigar-case  heaped  with 
rose  leaves  made  a  noble  trencher  at  one  end,  and 
at  the  other  a  matchbox  supported  a  bit  of  sticky 
bread  and  jam,  with  the  prints  of  nibbling  teeth  very 
discernible  upon  it. 

A  rag  doll,  somewhat  indiscreetly  candid  in  the 
matter  of  cotton  stuffing,  occupied  the  seat  of  honor 
opposite  the  host,  who  hugged  a  dead  mole,  with  a 
string  tied  to  one  disconsolate  flipper,  to  his  breast 
with  determined  fondness;  Peter  Clark,  at  the  host's 
right  hand,  faced  a  yellow  kitten,  bored  of  aspect  and 
with  the  saturnine  expression  of  a  cat  who  recognizes 
that  conditions  and  not  theories  confront  him.  A 
discussion  touching  the  propriety  of  the  mole's  pre- 
-H  288  -H- 


LOVE    IT    OVER    AGAIN 

sence  —  he  being  dead — had  just  been  concluded, 
and  relations  were,  for  the  moment,  a  trifle  strained 
between  Clark  and  his  host. 

"I  can't  think,"  said  Clark  to  Tola,  who  sat  at  the 
other  end  of  the  bench  with  her  sewing,  "  I  can't 
think  how  he  keeps  the  confounded  thing  so  fresh  ! 
Every  time  I  've  been  here  fora  month,  he's  had  that 
dead  beast  hugged  up  in  his  arms." 

"  Uncle  Cart  gets  him  a  new  one  every  morning, 
before  he  is  awake.  Don't  tell  him  it's  not  the  same 
one,  please.  It  would  break  his  heart." 

"  Catch  me  robbing  anybody  of  an  illusion  !  Mr. 
Cartright  is  very  fond  of  him,  is  n't  he  ?  I  don't 
know  how  he'll  stand  being  parted  from  him,"  con 
cluded  Clark,  with  a  covert  glance  at  lola's  face.  She 
had  dropped  her  sewing,  and,  with  startled  eyes  of 
premonitory  dread  fixed  on  his  face,  leaned  forward 
with  clasped  hands. 

"  '  Parted  from  him '  ?  "  she  echoed,  with  a  catch 
in  her  voice,  that  strove  to  be  unconcerned;  "what 
air  you  talking  erbout  ?  Nothin'  couldn't  part  Uncle 
Cart  V  Claude." 

"I'm  going  to  take  him  East  with  me,  when  I  go 
next  week.  My  sister  wants  him." 

"  Mil  child  !  Wants  my  child !  Air  —  air  you  crazy, 
Peter?" 

"The  law  of  Alabama  says  he's  mine,  lola." 

"Th'  law!"  she  flung  it  from  her  with  a  face  of 
tremulous  white  scorn  ;  but  Clark,  watching  her 

289  +- 


closely,  saw,  as  he  had  expected  to  see,  the  shadow 
of  a  fear  that  was  more  than  half  awe  fall  across  her 
face.  To  the  rural  Southerner  "  th'  law  "  is  a  weird, 
resistless  force,  abstract  and  terrible,  capable,  like 
God,  of  giving  and  taking  away,  and  a  thing  against 
which  it  is  madness  and  desecration  to  struggle. 

"What  has  the  law  to  do  with  my  child?"  she 
demanded  tensely.  "He's  not  er  law  child,  'n'  so 
how  ken  th'  law  take  him  erway !  "  with  quivering 
reason,  that  only  half  believed  its  argument. 

"  The  law  assumes  that  a  woman  who  will  not 
give  her  son  a  legal  father,  who  cares  nothing  for 
his  good  name  or  her  own,  is  not  a  fit  person  to  have 
charge  of  him.  That  is  the  plea  my  lawyer  will  put 
in,  and  the  courts  here  will  make  no  trouble  about 
it,  I  suppose." 

lola  was  gazing  wildly  at  him,  her  brows  locked 
in  the  tragic  frown  of  despair,  that  made  a  straight 
line  of  them. 

"Plea?"  she  murmured  distractedly;  "  er  —  er 
plea  to  take  my  baby,  'n'  -  -  'n'  giv'  him  to  er  woman 
in  New  York!  Oh,  God!" 

Clark  was  as  white  as  the  girl  herself  as  he  rose 
and  came  to  her  side,  his  face  set  with  desperate 
purpose. 

"  Listen,  lola ;  this  thing  has  been  going  on  be 
tween  us  for  a  year.  I  have  offered  over  and  over 
to  make  you  my  wife — begged  and  prayed  you  to 
come  back  to  me  !  " 

-+  290  +- 


LOVE    IT    OVER    AGAIN 

"  I  've  axed  you  er  million  times  not  to  come,  'n' 
tol'  you  it  was  no  use." 

"  The  year  mentioned  in  your  father's  will  expired 
three  months  ago.  Of  course,  as  long  as  there  was  a 
question  of  that  infernal  water  I  would  not  ask  you, 
but  you  knew  why  I  came.  But  you  cannot  think 
that  now!  I  have  a  home  for  you  in  Morganton, 
standing  empty,  —  and  I  'm  sick  of  this  cursed  lone 
liness  !  I  want  my  home,  my  boy,  my  wife  !  But 
this  is  my  last  appeal.  Come  to  me  now,  or  I  take 
the  boy  East  with  me  and  never  set  foot  again  in 
Alabama." 

"I  cannot,  Peter,  cannot!  I — I  do  not  love 
you." 

"  Come  without  love  !  I  '11  make  you  love  me.  It 
will  be  different  now,  with  the  child,"  he  whispered 
brokenly. 

"  'F  you  take  him,  Peter,  I  will  kill  myself,"  she 
returned,  with  stony  quiet ;  "  he  is  th'  oii'y  thing  on 
earth  that  loves  me." 

Clark  took  her  hands,  making  her  meet  his  eyes, 
that  forgot  for  once  to  be  impassive  and  were  full  of 
plain,  manly  pain  and  purpose. 

"  What  about  me,  and  the  last  four  years  of  my 
life?" 

"  'F  -  -  'f  you  had  ever  loved  me,  you  would  n't 
take  my  baby  'n'  give  it  to  er  woman  in  New  York. 
Oh,  Peter,"  with  a  burst  of  anguish, "  say  you  won't 
—  oh,  say  it,  say  it !  " 

-+  291  H- 


THE    WORLD'S    WARRANT 

"I  must  unless  you  come  with  him.  I  must  have 
my  boy." 

"  You  ken  have  him  here.  I  '11  let  you  come. 
I  '11  never  say  again  you  must  n't  come." 

"  I  would  not  leave  him  with  you  as  things  are. 
I  do  not  think  you  are  fit  to  raise  him,  if  you  will 
persist  in  depriving  him  of  his  name.  I  will  put 
him  where  he  will  not  know  of  his  disgrace,  at  any 
rate." 

"  Not  fit  ?  Oh,  God  !  not  fit  to  raise  my  own  child. 
/  not  fit !  '  N  '  —  'n'  you  ?  "  she  tremulously  de 
manded  ;  "air  you  fit?" 

"  My  sister  will  bring  him  up." 

With  a  cry  she  sprang  toward  the  child,  and 
before  Clark  could  divine  her  purpose  was  running 
staggeringly  across  the  lawn  in  the  direction  of  the 
river,  with  him  in  her  arms.  He  reached  her  side  as 
she  was  leaping  from  timber  to  timber,  among  the 
rotting  logs  of  the  landing. 

"  Are  you  mad,  lola  !  Give  me  the  boy  — 
quick !  Not  on  that  broken  timber,  for  God's 
sake  !  " 

She  stood  upon  the  extreme  end  of  a  jutting  tim 
ber,  that  sagged  with  her  weight,  her  hand  grasping 
a  broken  beam  above  her ;  and  below  the  strong, 
inshore  current.  Clark  dared  not  trust  his  weight 
upon  the  log,  though  her  slight  form  swayed  beneath 
the  child's  weight. 

"  Come  back,  lola  !  Blossom,  come  back  !  " 
^t-  292  H- 


LOVE    IT    OVER    AGAIN 

uNo,  no!  I  '11  put  him  where  your  sister  can't  get 
him,  and  he  won't  know  of  his  disgrace." 

Clark  ventured  down  the  log,  until  he  could  grasp 
the  child's  hanging  hand. 

"  lola,  listen  to  me.  I  was  only  trying  you, 
dear.  I  would  not  take  the  boy  from  you.  I  only 
wanted  to  make  you  know  what  it  is  to  suffer,  as 
you  have  made  me  suffer  with  wanting  you  and  my 
child." 

The  girl  paused,  came  back  a  step  toward  him, 
still  holding  to  the  beam  as  she  gazed  with  wonder 
at  the  young  man's  face,  haggard  with  anxiety.  The 
wild  turmoil  of  her  fear  gave  way  to  something 
softer  as  she  gazed. 

"  Suffer  like  this,  Peter?  "  She  pressed  the  child 
to  her  bosom,  with  anguished  tenderness  as  she 
spoke. 

"  Ay  ;  as  much  as  that." 

She  swayed  toward  him,  and  Clark  caught  the 
child  quickly  from  her ;  and  after  a  moment  of  hesi 
tation  included  her  in  his  embrace,  and  stood  holding 
them  both  firmly  in  his  arms. 

"  Down  there  nobody  could  n't  part  us,"  she  mur 
mured  restlessly.  "  I  'd  ruther  be  down  there  with 
him  then  to  let  that  woman  in  New  York  "  — 

"No  one  can  take  him  from  you  now,  Blossom. 
This  is  the  only  place  where  you  will  be  able  to  keep 
him.  Stay  here  with  him,  won't  you?" 

"  You  won't  never,  never  set  th'  law  on  me  ?  " 
-H-  293  -t- 


THE    WORLD'S    WARRANT 

"  Only  to  bind  you  to  rue,  and  him  to  you,  so  that 
nothing  can  ever  part  us  three  again." 

Her  arms  were  closing  jealously  around  the  child 
as  his  drew  her  closer,  and  they  stood  thus  together, 
locked  in  a  silent  embrace,  with  Chinquepin's  sleepy 
night-voice  singing  a  lullaby  over  the  darkening  land. 


CAMBRIDGE  .  MASSACHUSETTS 
U    .    S    •    A 


MRS.  WIGGIN'S  REBECCA 

"  A  character  that  is  irresistible  in  her  quaint, 
humorous  originality."  Cleveland  Leader. 

Mrs.  Wiggin  has  written  a  new  book  under 
the  title  "New  Chronicles  Of  Rebecca"  recount 
ing  certain  episodes  in  the  life  of  Rebecca,  "just 
the  nicest  child  in  American  literature,"  to  quote 
from  Mr.  T.  B.  Aldrich.  "Rebecca's  normal 
spirit  and  good  cheer  are  adorable,"  writes  Mrs. 
Burnett.  Indeed,  Rebecca  is  a  favorite  in  the 
hearts  of  thousands.  She  has  become  almost  a 
national  character.  Her  native  wit  and  the 
wholesome  charm  of  untrammeled  American 
girlhood  brighten  every  page  of  this  new  book. 

Illustrated  by  F.  C.  YOHN.     I2mo,  $1.25. 


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NOVELS  BY  MRS.  M.  E.  M.  DAVIS 

THE  LITTLE  CHEVALIER 

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and  adventurous  life  in  New  Orleans  in  the  early  part  of  the  i8th 
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THE  QUEEN'S  GARDEN 

It  is  a  charming  and  most  artistic  piece  of  fiction  ...  a  delightful 
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written.  —  Nashville  Banner.  i6mo,  $1.25. 

UNDER  THE  MAN-FIG 

Mrs.  Davis  writes  of  Texas,  of  plantation  life  and  character,  of  the 
ever-fascinating  negroes  and  the  gentle,  lazy  white  children  of  Sun 
shine  land,  their  pretty  romance,  and  their  patient  suffering.  Her 
story  covers  a  number  of  years  in  time,  and  includes  a  wide  and  varied 
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THE  WIRE  CUTTERS 

The  principal  scenes  of  the  novel  are  laid  in  Louisiana  and  Texas, 
and  it  takes  its  name  from  the  desperate  and  prolonged  struggle  waged 
with  indomitable  energy  and  pluck  by  the  rural  classes  of  the  latter 
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ing  in  of  their  broad  acres,  once  as  free  as  the  very  air.  There  is  a 
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Crown  Svo,  $1.50. 

THE  PRICE  OF  SILENCE 

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